By Your Side
by CharmingPromise
Summary: Tony Stark schemes with his fellow Avengers to help Natasha and Clint realize their feelings. Or…Captain America makes Hawkeye jealous at Iron Man's wedding. Clintasha multi-chapter fluff
1. Prologue

Title: By Your Side

Author: CharmingPromise

Rating: M (for safety's sake… might drop if it never gets there)

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters and am simply borrowing them a brief period of time. Thank you Marvel for inspiring my imagination. I use lyrics for chapter titles (and story title and penname) so for this story credit is due to OneRepublic. (further song aknowledgments will be required as the story progresses)

Part: Prologue/?

Summary: Tony Stark schemes with his fellow Avengers to help Natasha and Clint see their potential. Or…. Captain America makes Hawkeye jealous. Clintasha multi-chapter fluff (while still hopefully mostly in character)

Authors Note: I'm dipping my toe back into FF having not written anything since I was a teenager (under a different name) so be gentle with me. Reviews are much appreciated. I'm excited to have The Avengers causing me to fan-girl all over again.

AN2: The prologue is very short but I should have the much longer second chapter up soon!

* * *

Prologue

* * *

I woke up with the sun

Thought of all of the people, places, and things I've loved

I woke up just to see

With all of the faces, you were the one next to me

OneRepublic- If I Lose Myself

* * *

"For a supposedly brilliant man you certainly have more than your share of terrible, destructive ideas."

"Thank you." Tony quipped, clasping his hands behind his back and rocking from heel to toe as he regarded Steve solemnly. "So you're in?"

"Meddling, unnecessary, potentially relationship ruining ideas," Steve expanded. "No," he finished as he tugged on his second shoe and rose from where he had been seated on his bed, dressing for the day, prior to Tony Stark's intrusion.

"So you don't see it?" Tony demanded, trailing behind him as they left Steve's apartment in the newly christened Avengers Tower. "The longing looks, the heated stares, the pining sighs?"

"Natasha does not pine," Steve snorted.

"Fine. But they are our teammates. Our friends! And we could be doing them the favor of their lives."

"You just want to get involved in something that has nothing to do with you," Steve accused. "Your personal life is secure and content, much to your demented chagrin, so you have to go throw someone else's into turmoil.

Tony held the door and followed Steve into the tower's expansive shared kitchen. "Or I just want everyone to know the blissful happiness I have been so lucky to find."

Steve shot him a dubious look over the top of a box of cereal.

"Fine, maybe I haven't reached that level of enlightenment yet. But you know how those two get when they're in formal wear!" Tony reminded him, simulating an explosion with widely sweeping arms. "I don't need to feel inadequate at my own wedding. It's four days Stars-n-Stripes; you can do anything for four days. I'm asking you to escort a beautiful woman to a fabulous party. If it offends your gentlemanly sensibilities so much, you can think of it as nothing more than that." He could see Steve's resolve faltering and allowed him to contemplate the plan over his all-American bowl of Wheaties.

"Why do you think this will even work?" he finally asked, "They aren't exactly emotionally motivated people. They may have evolved past all that petty jealousy that you want to exploit here."

"They're human Cap. None of us are immune to that." Tony replied bluntly. "What they have is comfortable, it works. They aren't going to willingly take a chance on something uncertain that might destroy that."

"Exactly!" Steve exclaimed, pointing at Tony with his spoon for emphasis. "They are content! What right do we have to mess with whatever happiness they found? It isn't our place."

"Because they could be so much more. Comfortable is such a cop out for those two. They could be legends." Tony winced thinking that might have been a little over the top but he could see Steve's face soften. He really was a softie.

"He loves her," Tony continued. "So much that he would go forever without really having her if that's the only way to avoid the risk of losing her. He just needs a push. Show him that there are other ways she could be lost without ever seeing what could've been. They both deserve this, they deserve each other."

Steve sighed, "Why me?"

Tony executed a victorious fist punch into the air, knowing he had won, "Because you're Captain America. You're about truth, justice, and the American way."

"I didn't know the American way was manipulating your friends into potential heartbreak," Steve drawled, shooting Tony a look that said his compliance was still not guaranteed.

"Of course it is. Red cups, the second amendment, and manipulation of those nearest and dearest to you…. American as you get. Cap, you are a sensitive, idealistic soul who believes in love and will see that the ends justify the means." Tony clapped him on the back and headed for the door. "Also in the event that our dear friend Clint decides to take a richly deserved swing at you once all this plays out, I needed someone who could defend himself without destroying half my island in the process."

Steve rubbed a weary hand over his face as Tony disappeared from the kitchen, having correctly assumed his participation in this scheme. "To the American way," he said, using his spoon to cheers the now empty room.


	2. Chapter 1- Steal Your Heart

Title: By Your Side

Author: CharmingPromise

Rating: M (for safety's sake… might drop if it never gets there)

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters and am simply borrowing them a brief period of time. Thank you Marvel for inspiring my imagination. The song in this chapter is by Augustana and it is wonderful. (I am totally going to date myself since my musical tastes haven't changed since middle school)

Part: 1/?

AN: Thanks for reading my foray back into fanfic! Here is the promised loner chapter. Reviews are so very appreciated!

AN2: I am just proofing this myself so I sincerely apologize for grammatical and spelling mistakes! I hope they aren't so bad that they detract from the story.

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

Life is like a shadow

It never stays in one place

I'm standing here anyway

However long it takes to steal your heart

Gonna steal your heart

Gonna steal your heart away

Augustana- Steal Your Heart

* * *

Clint Barton liked to observe things from above. He derived a great deal of comfort in being several stories up from the ground.

It wasn't that he was an egotist who enjoyed lording over the world below; it was just from this vantage that his talents were best utilized. A keen sense of observation and a deadly accuracy made him the greatest sniper in the states, likely in the world, and that was a job best accomplished a few dozen feet overhead.

This position also afforded him the few rare instances of Zen in his rather chaotic life. From a circus performer, to a SHIELD assassin, and now an Avenger, his was not often a life filled with quiet contemplation save moments such as these.

Also, at this particular moment, his roost gave him an unimpeded view down his partner's shirt of her not insignificant cleavage.

Clint leaned a little further over the railing that surrounded the indoor track he was currently perched on the edge of. The gym took up an entire floor of Avenger's Tower and was impressive enough itself with all of the latest equipment and weights, but the full track circling the gym a few yards above, was one of Clint's favorite locations. It saved him the tortuous agony of the treadmill, and gave him a perfect vantage from which to take target practice at various items in the gym below. Which is what he had been doing until his partner walked in to distract him about 20 minutes earlier.

Natasha planted her feet and slowly swooped down into the next position in her yoga routine, giving him another glimpse down the neck of her oversized t-shirt. He would never gawk so openly to her face. Not only because she would forcibly and violently redirect his gaze, but because Nat had enough of that in her life.

Natasha was easily the most talented agent he had ever encountered, her skills putting his own admirable abilities to shame. As he had gotten to know her over the past decade, he had come to know her fierce intelligence and loyalty, and eventually, her quick humor, which he deemed to be one of the world's greatest hidden treasures. But all of this, the fundamental basis of _her_, was so often ignored by the world at large who viewed her primarily as a compilation of tits, ass, and a pretty face. She was a pro at using this distraction to her advantage, but she was so much more than the beautiful exterior.

But beautiful she was, and he was a heterosexual man with exceptionally good eyesight, at that. So when these rare opportunities to surreptitiously ogle his breathtaking partner presented themselves, he would be fool not to jump on them.

He owed it to her, and their ten years of partnership turned friendship to limit it to these private moments.

To do otherwise would be completely unfair to her and he figured he owed her that much, since he had already very unfairly fallen in love with her.

He did his best to keep this secret from her, and he was mostly certain of his success. Natasha was either unaware that things went far deeper than friendship on his end, or she was kindly feigning ignorance. Either way, he was grateful.

His mind flashed briefly to sweltering Summer night in Budapest when he got the first inkling as to the woman Natasha was becoming underneath the Black Widow and he knew that he'd been ruined for all other women.

Everyone around them around them seemed to know his dirty little secret, or at least they acted as though they did. Really they were only making assumptions based on the fact that anyone working so closely with such an attractive partner was sure to develop some sort of feelings. They had no idea exactly how much of a goner he was.

Most of their fellow agents at SHIELD had assumed they were at least sleeping together, since that's what attractive people with interlocking bodies are supposed to do. Clint was fairly sure that at least actually was on the table since Natasha treated her sexual urges like every other bodily function and addressed them with the same methodical practice. He would certainly be a convenient partner and she had offered as much once, not more than a month before the battle in New York with Loki. As tempted as he had been, Clint knew he wouldn't be able to sleep with her without blurting out embarrassing declarations of love and torpedoing the relationship he treasured most in this life, so he regretfully declined.

Ultimately, he knew they had something more important than that and he didn't want to prove to be just another disposable male in her life. He hoped that on some level she respected him for that choice. He used that thought to comfort him more and more since they had both moved into Avenger's (nee Stark) Tower and he saw her day and night in various stages of dress and undress, doing the mundane human things that people tend to do. For some reason when it was her, tasks such as dental hygiene and washing the dishes became a veritable sex show to his smitten brain. It was the most exquisite torture since despite the torment it meant he got to spend the majority of everyday with the best friend he'd ever had.

And that was really the crux of it. Clint was an affable guy and had never really lacked in acquaintances and passing friendships. He was well liked at SHIELD and his charming smile coupled with an easy laugh endeared him to most people he met. But until Nat, he had never had a true partner. He trusted her implicitly, not only with his life but with every aspect of who he was, with the small exception of his rather large crush on her. It was a bond he never experienced previously and he wasn't sure many people ever did. Clint was eternally annoyed with himself for falling in love with this essential person in his life. But so he had and so here he was, sitting in the rafters sneaking glimpses of her chest like some airborne peeping tom.

Natasha finished her yoga and moved on to some apparently ab-oriented exercises which had her reclined on a large pink exercise ball.

Deciding his masochistic side had enough indulgence for one morning; Clint chose to remind her of his presence. She clearly knew he was in there since she had discarded her headphones as soon as she came in and was blasting the maudlin singer/songwriter crap she had become so fond of lately through the gym's sound system. She only did that when she knew there was someone, namely Clint, to annoy with it.

He watched her calisthenics on the ball, feeling slightly disappointed that she found him so easy to ignore. He must be losing his edge, which is something that needed to be immediately rectified.

Clint raised his bow, which had been had been hanging loosely in his hands since his practice session had ceased, and leveled it at his target.

The pink ball disappeared with a pop and Natasha was deposited unceremoniously on her ass. Clint gave a triumphant whoop at the momentary look of surprise that Natasha was unable to fight from her face. Such a look was so intrinsically rare to her features it was like seeing a dog walking on his hind legs and wearing a silly hat; not completely implausible but incredibly unusual and hilarious.

Natasha's expression quickly shifted to one of annoyance. She had a surprising knack for pranks herself but Natasha Romanoff did not take kindly to being surprised.

She glared up at him from her seat on the floor before standing and pulling the arrow from the deflated ball. She heaved the arrow in his direction even as he hopped to his feet and moved towards the stairs. He watched the arrow fly by and was mildly impressed as he watched it bury itself in the wall to the left of him.

"I'm going to tell Stark you're ruining his exercise equipment," she threatened as he strolled over with a smug smile on his face.

"What are you, 5?" Clint asked, "No one wants to be friends with the tattle tale."

Natasha stuck out her tongue and Clint knew he was forgiven as he took a moment to relish this playful side she showed more and more since moving into their new home.

"Plus you're the one vandalizing his state-of-the-art gym. I'm pretty sure that's more than your basic drywall that needs repairing," he said, motioning to the arrow still tip first in the wall.

"That was my favorite one though," she replied, feigning a pout, "It was just the right size and level of inflation. I've been playing Goldilocks and the three bears with those balls for months now."

Clint felt a brief twinge of guilt, "I'm sure Tony can afford a replacement if you ask nicely."

Natasha grimaced and kicked the pink rubber that was all that remained of her favorite exercise ball. He knew she was still uncomfortable living in someone else's house, using the things they bought. If there was anything Natasha hated more than being surprised it was feeling indebted to someone. It was for that reason that she had been the last to move in after they all reconvened in Manhattan once more.

She lacked the social understanding Clint had, that part of Tony Stark would always be the ostracized little rich boy who thought he needed to buy his friends. It didn't matter that he had aged into a devilishly handsome and charming adult who could win people over with the merit of his character; he still had the compulsion to reward his friends with expensive gifts and favors. Clint had explained this to Natasha; saying that this was how Tony showed them he cared and it wasn't as if Stark was doing this to his detriment. He had more than enough money to spare for these extravagances. Now that he was part of the coolest clique on Earth, he was likely going to do everything in his power to make this work. Sure he had an ego bigger than their new residence, but this was as much for him as it was for them. Clint's point was quickly proven as Tony had turned stretches between missions into a series of keggers, movie nights, and slumber parties as he played his role of self-appointed social chair.

Natasha had begrudgingly allowed his line of reasoning and taken up residence in the bedroom/bathroom combo that Tony had designed specifically for her, but she still wasn't comfortable living on someone else's credit. Debt would always make her uncomfortable and she couldn't help but catalogue each kindness done her supposedly without the expectation of it being repaid. She was still getting used to the concept of being a friend, and a friend like Tony was an whole new animal entirely.

"If you feel that bad, I'm sure Tony would take sexual favors in exchange for exercise equipment," Clint teased.

The furrow between Natasha's brows deepened and her frown tightened, "I think Tony Stark and I might be the least sexually compatible individuals on this planet," she replied.

"Come on Tasha. He'll be a married man in a few short days. You don't want to have any regrets. Roads not traveled, and all that," he chided.

Natasha rolled her eyes, not even dignifying him with a response.

"Fine, if you're not off to ride the Iron Man in Stark's pants you can come have breakfast with me." This wasn't uncommon for the two of them to parlay morning workouts into shared breakfasts and Clint had a notion to make a habit out of it.

"Shower, then food," she allowed, pulling the hem of her oversized shirt up to wipe sweat from her forehead.

A stiff salute was all he managed as his brain and libido warred over how to respond to the flash of toned stomach.

Natasha Romanoff was a goddamn master in the art of intentional seduction, but it was the unintended moments that were his undoing. He just counted himself lucky it wasn't his shirt, since the sight of her in his clothes was enough of a distraction without the added show of skin.

The large Cal Tech t-shirt she was wearing now was probably Bruce's. He knew she had procured one of Tony's innumerable band tees and nondescript colored shirts from Steve and Thor as well. As for Clint, she had stealthily acquired several of his over the course of their partnership including his astoundingly appropriate Iowa Hawkeyes shirt, and a few of his own concert tees from a slightly later era than Tony's.

The collection of t-shirts might seem, to the uninitiated observer, to be a completely incongruous show of possessiveness in someone as pragmatic as Natasha but Clint knew it wasn't a matter of staking her claim, nor was it a catty dig at the women in their lives (though he couldn't swear they were as enlightened). Natasha had spent a far too large portion of her life as an empty vessel that personas were poured in to as necessity arose, and even after escaping that she lived a life almost completely disconnected from other human beings. It had been her status quo to not care about anyone and to be invested in nothing but her own survival. While it may have seemed lonely, it was all she knew and it was safe. Joining SHIELD and finding some purpose beyond herself had been enough of a mindfuck for her and now she was faced with the concept of actual friends. She was part of this misfit team of superheroes now, and they frustrated her endlessly as they slowly chipped away at all of her defenses. She would steal a shirt as a concession of defeat, to let them know that they had won her respect and grudging attempt at friendship, but at the same time she wore them as a dare to the previous owner to go do something stupid and turn it into something she wore in memoriam. She had kept herself walled off for a reason, and if they were so hell-bent on making her care, she needed to remind them that they were now beholden to her to never make her regret it by leaving.

"I'll meet you in the kitchen in 15," Clint said, giving her long red ponytail a tug as they parted ways at the stairs. Tony had indulged his preferences with the top floor while Natasha was just below the gym.

She snorted, "I'll plan on 20. I know the luxurious showers you like to take."

"Only when I'm thinking of you Tash," he called over his shoulder, and was around the corner before she could reply.

* * *

Like it? Love it? Hate it? I'd love to hear!

TBC


	3. Chapter 2- Memory

Title: By Your Side

Author: CharmingPromise

Rating: M (for safety's sake… might drop if it never gets there)

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters and am simply borrowing them a brief period of time. Thank you Marvel for inspiring my imagination. The song is 'Memory' and it's by Sugarcult. I'm not sure these will always totally fit the chapters perfectly in every circumstance but it's a revenant from my days of fanfic past and I'm kinda attached to the format.

Part: 2/?

AN: I am just proofing this myself so I sincerely apologize for grammatical and spelling mistakes! I hope they aren't so bad that they detract from the story.

AN2: Thank you so very much to everyone reading and reviewing! I love the support!

AN3: CA2- The Winter Soldier….. SO GOOD.

* * *

Chapter 2

* * *

So get back, back, back to where we lasted

Just like I imagined

I could never feel this way

So get back, back, back to the disaster

My heart's beating faster

Holding on to feel the same

This may never start

I'll tear us apart

Sugarcult- Memory

* * *

Natasha was still shaking her head and marveling over her crass partner, and how much she had changed that he could get away with saying the things he did without violent retribution, as she descended the stairs to her apartment and waiting shower.

She heard footsteps thudding up the flight below and gave Steve a warm grin when they crossed paths on the landing of her floor.

"Morning Cap'" she greeted. She was not unused to seeing him running the stairs prior to his twice daily trips to the gym.

"Natasha," he said, pausing in his upward progress, which was not part of the typical routine, "Did you have a nice workout?"

"Pretty typical," she replied, caught off guard by his sudden desire for small talk. Steve was a fiend for exercise and he wasn't often one to stop and chat mid-workout. She could swear he looked nervous too, though to be fair that was not much out of the norm for Steve when they found themselves alone together. Natasha wasn't sure if it was her specifically that made him edgy, or if that was just his native state around women. She was pretty sure it was the latter.

"Are you excited for this weekend?" he pressed on.

Natasha pursed her lips to consider this for a minute. Excited wasn't really an emotion she identified with, though she did anticipate she would enjoy the upcoming trip with her teammates cum roommates cum friends-in-training.

"I'm very fair, beaches really aren't really ideal for me," she answered honestly.

Steve stared at her for an open mouthed second, clearly at a loss for what to say. For some reason he had apparently rehearsed this conversation ahead of time and she was obviously going off script.

"I foresee it being worth the sunburn though," she quickly added.

Steve nodded, the conversation having caught back up to where he clearly intended it.

Not even Tony Stark could plummet from space to his, however momentary, death, and not have some self-actualizing realizations. One being that this Avengers Initiative mattered and he was in 100% and the other was the obvious acknowledgement that Pepper was one of the greatest things to ever happen to him. While he might think marriage was an outdated and silly institution he owed it to her to hang up his mantle as 'playboy' and acknowledge to the world his better half. It was nearly two years since Manhattan had been partially destroyed, but the plans were finally in place and the wedding was set for the impending weekend on an island in the Caribbean that Tony had purchased for specifically this purpose.

It made Natasha squirm to turn on the TV and see rampant speculation on the "wedding of the year", complete with a superhero bridal party. Being an Avenger was very different than being a spy or assassin and she would never be happy with some stick insect on the evening news speculating whether she would wear black to a wedding, while a candid picture of her was superimposed in the corner of the screen. Fury had been right to declare her useless for undercover work, as infuriating as that had been for her to hear. At least Clint could still effectively prowl the roofs above and feel useful.

"Do you have an escort?" Steve asked in a rush, drawing her out of her contemplation of the weekend ahead.

"Am I supposed to?" she asked, startled, and immediately saw she had once again said the wrong thing as a flash of near panic crossed the Captain's handsome face.

"I just assumed Clint and I would go," she elaborated, "I guess we normally partner up for these sorts of 'missions' as well."

"Tony told me he invited one of the new SHIELD recruits," Steve said nervously.

"Who?" Natasha snorted, ticking through the new batch of female recruits in her head.

"I'm not sure- he didn't say…" he began but Natasha interrupted.

"Probably Scarlett," she mused, thinking of the young gymnast who had so impressed on the obstacle course they supervised together a few months ago. "He likes them blonde and flexible." She was a little uncomfortable with the sudden irrational distaste she felt for the tiny blonde agent and was afraid it was written plainly across her face.

"Maybe," Steve said, "I just thought-," he stopped and began again. "I figured since we're the only two without a date we could maybe just go together."

"Only if you wanted to of course!" he added hurriedly.

Natasha stared at him blankly, "Are you asking me out Captain?"

"It can be whatever you want," he assured her, ever the courteous gentleman.

Natasha tried to ignore the nagging sting she felt that Clint hadn't clued her in to his plans. He didn't have any obligation to her of course, but he spent most of every day with her in some capacity and she thought he would have mentioned it.

Clint had never been one to date over the years she had known him, and it was true that when events that required a date arose they typically just went together, but she had never really considered that this lack of romantic conquests might be a consequence of their job rather than personal choice.

Their identities splashed across the news and local gossip rags, meant that their work with SHIELD was mostly limited to teaching positions now, and crises of a magnitude that required the attention of the Avengers were not a daily occurrence, so the two spies definitely found themselves with more time to just…..be, than they'd ever had before. She shouldn't be surprised that while she used the time to catch up on her reading and practice some new fighting skills, Clint might be finally taking part in the human activity of dating.

Natasha was fairly certain that despite whatever feelings, she might be finding herself capable of recently, she would never be one for a practice as conventional as dating. She was only now realizing how much that might put her out of synch with the others.

Thor had been living in the tower since a battle with the dark elf Malekith put him back on the same plane as Jane and he decided he no longer wanted to be away from the pretty astrophysicist. While they hadn't officially moved in together yet, they were clearly devoted to each other and it went without saying that she would accompany him to the wedding.

Tony had finally pestered Bruce into acknowledging burgeoning feelings for Amy, the biochemistry grad student at nearby NYU where Bruce would occasionally guest lecture, and he made sure that the entire house was made aware when Dr. Banner broke down and invited her this weekend.

Now with Clint bringing some way-too-young-for-him recruit, she and Steve would be the only two Avengers attending solo. While it was of no concern to her that she did not have a date, she had seen the wistful side of Captain America that smiled fondly as their friends paired off and got misty during 'Shakespeare in Love' when they watched their way through 'Best Pictures' for a month worth of movie nights.

"Sure," she finally said, offering Steve a cautious smile, "We can go together."

The tension visibly drained from Steve's large frame and he returned the small smile with a beaming grin of his own, "That's great. Thank you Natasha," he said and she thought for half a second he was going to try and hug her before he settled for a friendly shoulder squeeze instead, which was shocking enough itself. She wasn't entirely sure Steve had ever actually touched her outside of actual combat.

"We can work out the logistics when we get there," he said, "I'll see you later."

Natasha could only manage a weak wave as he thanked her again and resumed his sprint up the stairwell. She finally opened the door and stepped out onto her floor of Avenger's Tower.

An entire floor would be excessive for each of their living quarters, so instead they each shared a floor with some other extravagant amenity Tony had chosen specifically with each of them in mind.

Banner had the predictable satellite lab in case he needed privacy not available on the 3 floors of R&amp;D below him.

Tony had somehow anticipated Thor taking a liking for American cinema and gifted him with a movie theater from which he could often be heard laughing uproariously as he binge watched decades worth of terrible films.

Steve had a billiards room right out of 'Clue' with a pool table and darts and the small addition of two regulation size bowling lanes.

Clint was lucky enough to share space with a beautiful infinity pool overlooking NYC on his top floor. Natasha imagined the pool was more convenient placement than homage to Clint's tastes, though he was second only to Pepper when it came to frequency of use. Anything to get in some cardio without resorting to the treadmill she knew to be his policy.

Natasha bypassed a massive library on her way into the apartment, resplendent with fully stocked shelves that were broken up only by an ornate fireplace on one wall.

She closed the door behind her and shed her workout clothes on the floor of her bedroom while the shower warmed. She wondered if she had just made a terrible mistake accepting Steve's clumsy invitation in the hall.

She was fairly certain Steve Rogers felt more timid appreciation of her skills than he did romantic fervor. He toed a line of genuine respect for her abilities and utter incomprehension for her brand of overt sexuality. She enjoyed discussing books with him and the most effective way to take out an opponent using birthday streamers and a stapler among other challenging hypotheticals, but he would squirm uncomfortably and flush a deep red when she strode into the kitchen in a sports bra for a post-workout bottle of water. He liked her as a person but someone as virtuous as Captain America was never going to be truly comfortable with the things she had done and likely still would, so she was fairly confident this was just a harmless gesture of chivalry to save her the stigma of the singles table.

Natasha of course could care less about such social constructs but there was something about Steve's earnestness that made him a hard person to disappoint. Almost as much as his sincere gallantry, she had been possessed by some destructive need to throw caution to the wind upon hearing about Clint's 'date'.

She knew that Steve was attractive. Every one of the men that claimed membership in the Avengers was objectively handsome and she was not unwilling to admit as much. In the past all she required of her sexual partners was an attractive face and a willing participation but she sensed that this was a line better not crossed with this particular group.

She enjoyed sex enough and had needs that an attractive co-worker could at least begin to fulfill. The visuals were enjoyable enough, and she was always back in her own room shortly after the panting conclusion to finish their job half-done under the warm spray of her shower. Natasha leaned back into that selfsame shower spray to rinse her hair as she considered for the second time this morning just how much she was evolving.

It wasn't just that most of them were in committed relationships with women for whom she had a great deal of respect, though that was part of it. It was also that she simply had too much respect and affection for these new friendships to tarnish them simply in order to scratch that particular itch. It was a new breed of relationship that she had only come to understand through years of platonic partnership with Clint. A parallel she was no longer comfortable with since she was starkly aware of how recently she had nearly crossed those firmly established boundaries with that particular teammate and to whom she found her mind wandering now.

She had always been attracted to Clint Barton. His face might lack the symmetrical perfection of some but she had always found his brand of rugged handsomeness more alluring. Each scar or imperfection gave his face and form character. Below the neck wasn't grounds for being tossed out of bed either. His ass in a pair of jeans made her consider worship at the altar of Levi Denim and she was of the opinion that his toned archer's arms were the epitome of what arms should look like. Even her most concentrated efforts could not ignore the heat uncurling deep in her abdomen at the sight of his muscular forearms when he snapped his bow into commission.

Attraction was something she could handle. It was chemicals and hormones; synapses firing in a predictable and familiar way. It was the unaccustomed reactions she was having to seemingly innocuous behavior that caused an increased alarm.

It was the spreading warmth in her chest at the open smile he gave her whenever she entered the room. It was the tightness in her diaphragm when he'd nudge her in the middle of a briefing to snicker over one of the inside jokes on their ever-expanding list. It was when she realized she had stopped reading in the middle of a page and drifted into the memory of a recent joke or story he'd told. This was all new in her repertoire of human interaction and emotion and she could no longer deny that Clint Barton had become a distraction for her.

From his well-muscled torso to his blue-grey eyes, she was completely at a loss as to how to handle this frightening dynamic with the one person she didn't think she could live without.

She had propositioned him over a year ago now, before Loki, before things had even gotten truly scary and confusing. She thought that if she could just get it out of her system things would right themselves in her head. If she could wrap her legs around his hips and ride him until they screamed, he would revert back to 'just another man' on par with all the others. She could eat breakfast next to him as she did with anyone else and not notice that he rubbed the back of his neck when he was deep in thought and that he chewed his thumb nail while he read.

She was both surprised and not when he had declined the invitation. Surprised because so few men did, and not because he was Clint.

And then Loki happened. And those three words: 'Barton's been compromised'.

Natasha didn't believe in souls but she imagined that's what people were referring to. That bottoming out of everything that she knew and was. She was far more down this path than she had been willing to realize and she realized she wasn't finding her way out simply by getting him naked.

Natasha Romanoff was exactly as strong as she was reported to be, but in this one respect she was wretchedly unprepared to deal. So she did the only thing she could think to do and deliberately ignored each small betrayal by her body and mind in his presence. It was only when she was forced to address feelings of any sort for anyone, such as Steve had just necessitated, that her traitorous mind ended up falling on Clint.

She was always prone to warm showers, hot nearly to the point of scalding if you asked a lesser person, but for the next few minutes Natasha twisted the knob to ice cold in an attempt to shock herself out of such an unsettling headspace.

For once, she was the one late to breakfast.

* * *

TBC… Each and every review is appreciated! Thank you so much!


	4. Chapter 3- Mixtape

Title: By Your Side

Author: CharmingPromise

Rating: M- language gets adult in this chapter

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters and am simply borrowing them a brief period of time. Thank you Marvel for inspiring my imagination. The song for this chapter is Mixtape and it belongs to Butch Walker.

Part: 3/?

AN: Thanks for reading my foray back into fanfic! All of the reviews and favorites/follows are so encouraging thank you all so much! I hope this continues to live up to expectations because I'm having a lot of fun writing it.

* * *

Chapter 3

* * *

You say hello, inside I'm screaming I love you

You say goodnight, in my mind

I'm sleeping next to you

You drive away

From my car crash of a heart

And I don't know

But you gave me the best mixtape I have

And even all the bad songs aint so bad

I just wish there was so much more than that

About me and you

Butch Walker- Mixtape

* * *

Clint glanced at his partner over the top of his Kindle and saw her still seemingly engrossed in her book. He had spent a few hours after breakfast down in the garage tinkering with his favorite of Tony's exorbitantly expensive vintage cars, fighting the urge to seek out the redhead with whom he was currently sharing a couch. He had eventually given up wasting time and found her where he so often did on lazy afternoons, curled up on the sofa in the library while Bruce paged through the latest issue of Scientific American in a chair nearby.

Natasha was very committed to reading in the traditional sense, turning the pages of hard bound books, that lived on shelves with a bookmark saving her place, whereas Clint was content to move into the 21st century with an entire library available at his fingertips via Amazon Whispernet. He had percentages instead of page numbers and e-ink that changed size and font at his whim. She was working her way through each and every classic included in the United States curriculum in between lengthy Russian tomes in her native language while he was reading Pet Cemetery for the third time. He saw the glances Natasha threw his Kindle, full of utter distaste, and he mocked her for being such a purist but they spent many afternoons in exactly this position enjoying each other's company in companionable silence.

There was something disarmingly endearing about seeing her curled up with one of her oversized books. Natasha was such an imposing figure when she was at work; it was easy to forget exactly how small she actually was. Sitting on the over-stuffed couch with her feet curled up under her in a moment of relaxation, she looked the rather diminutive 5'3'' she actually was. She wore a plain white tank top and worn grey sweats with her long red curls pulled back in a haphazard ponytail. A few errant strands had worked loose from the band to frame her face and she was persistently tucking them behind her ears as she continued reading. It was the softest and most peaceful that Clint ever got to see her with the exception of the small line of tension currently furrowing her brow.

She had been unusually quiet at breakfast and had disappeared upstairs as soon as her morning smoothie was drained. While not usually the most talkative person in any room, she had been noticeably subdued, especially given her playful manner in the gym less than an hour earlier.

Clint knew Natasha well enough not to pester her for an explanation, if she was upset with him he would hear about it soon enough. Natasha wasn't the type to give him the silent treatment or administer other such passive aggressive punishment he had experienced from women in his past. If she was angry with him she told him as much, often punctuated by guttural Russian curse words and explicit instructions as to exactly what he needed to do to rectify things. This directed silence meant she was still considering something, puzzling out how she though and felt. Yes, he knew better than to nag her, but that didn't mean he wasn't worried about what was percolating in that fiery head of hers.

He had struggled to give her some time to settle in with her book before joining her to silently wait out this internal debate until she decided to clue him in on her mood.

Clint turned his attention back to his book before he could be caught staring, something he had been doing a dangerous amount of today he reflected. For being so desperate to conceal his feelings, he certainly was doing his damndest to get caught, because there was no way he could look at her in moments like this without everything he felt for her plastered across his face.

He was quickly distracted again from his tale of reanimated cats and toddlers when Tony entered the room.

"So this is where all the boring people hole up for the day," he accused.

Bruce didn't even look up from his magazine and Natasha's withering glare said everything she wanted to convey, so Clint sighed and laid down his Stephen King.

"Didn't get enough Reading Rainbow as a kid? Take a look, it's in a book," he sing-songed.

"You can serenade me later," Tony replied, "Right now I'm concerned about your preparedness for my nuptials this weekend since nothing here remotely resembles excitement."

"I'm saving up for the reception," Natasha responded dryly, never looking up from the page in front of her.

"You two especially!" Tony shot back pointing at Natasha and Bruce, "Gloom and gloomier better bring the merriment. If that means you have to stockpile until then by reading up on Popular Science and Dostoyevsky, so be it."

Bruce raised his magazine to show Tony the cover by means of correction and Natasha followed suit by tapping the spine of her book where 'Tolstoy' was clearly embossed.

Tony waved a dismissive hand at them and turned his entire attention on Clint.

"So my fine feathered friend, have you found a partner to do-si-do with this weekend? Pepper allocated a seat just in case."

Clint saw Banner shoot Tony a warning glare and a small head shake but he failed to see the harm in the line of questioning and responded, "Tash and I have been such a hit at formal events of days past, no need to break up the gruesome twosome right?" he asked, smiling at his partner on the other end of the sofa. He wondered if she was thinking about the bottle of vodka they stole from behind the bar and secreted up to the roof at the last SHIELD Christmas party.

Clint Barton had keen eyes and an extraordinary talent for observation. It made him the remarkable sniper he was and gave him the edge in a fight as some nearly imperceptible tic gave away his opponent's next move. More than that though, it gave him an uncanny ability to read people.

A narrowing of the eyes, a tightening of the mouth, every slight facial clue giving him a sense for what people were thinking and feeling. Some people were easier to read than others. Jane was an open book even this early in their acquaintance while Bruce was more guarded, for obvious reasons.

Natasha, however, was in a league of her own. Inscrutable was her natural state and with some effort on her part she was could be unreadable. Despite this, over the course of a partnership they had developed their own means of communication, a silent dialogue that had so often been the reason for their survival and it made them the unparalleled team that they were. At this moment though, gun to his head, Clint couldn't have said what she was thinking.

She had lowered her book a few inches and was simply staring at him as he conversed with Tony. Clint felt a mild unease creep in and his smile faltered.

"Well this is interesting," Tony said, drawing Clint's attention back to him and away from the cool green eyes that remained pinned on him. "I thought you two talked."

Clint looked between Tony and Natasha, aware that he was out of the loop on something but struggling to fathom what it could be. Fortunately, he wasn't kept in the dark for long, as Tony seemed eager enough to fill him in. Bruce tossed his magazine on a side table and gave Tony another icy glare on his way out of the room, further piquing Clint's interest.

"I just finished a conversation with the Captain and it seems Miss. Romanoff accepted his invite this morning," Tony revealed.

Clint felt the bottom drop out of his world momentarily and knew that his mouth had similarly dropped open. He could hear his teeth click together as he quickly snapped it closed, trying to regain some composure as Tony was watching him keenly for a response and he could feel the red head in question still studying him closely.

Clint was always waiting for that dark handsome stranger to walk into their life and walk back out with Natasha. For all of her talk of love being for children, love being a weakness she could ill afford, he knew that she felt very deeply for a great number of things. It was only a matter of time before someone came into her world and showed her that you could feel that way about another person, without the world falling apart.

Whatever indescribable torture she had been subjected to before they met, however many times she had been unmade and abused, those monsters had destroyed her faith in human connection, but not her ability to experience it. Natasha was far too strong to be broken and whether she realized it yet or not, it was still well within her psyche to fall in love. It was a testament to her strength, and Clint would never deny her that blessing when she finally found it.

Despite having steeled himself for this inevitability he had never seen _this_ coming. He was waiting for the whirlwind of some great romance. Someone with an equally tortured past, pouncing in to steal her in one fell swoop. He was expecting it to be years from now. Not like this.

Not tentative first dates with a close personal friend he played pool with. This would be torment on a whole new level, watching their relationship evolve while feeling her slowly slip away. I would be death by a thousand paper cuts instead of the swift nuclear blast he had expected. And he had _never_ imagined it would be Steve.

He had nothing but respect for the earnest soldier, painfully out of his time. His patriotism and faith in humanity in the face of so much bullshit, so often, was truly admirable, if a little naïve, and he and Clint had an easy friendship that he genuinely valued.

He had never considered that while they tinkered side by side in the garage or faced off in (rather one-sided) games of darts that Rogers has been harboring any sort of yearning for Natasha.

It went without saying that every man in the house wanted her. He was frequently tamping down jealousy as Thor, still lacking some vital human social graces, stared openly at her shapely ass when she left a room. He couldn't fault them for noticing what was plainly obvious to anyone with a functioning ocular nerve and he had no legitimate claim to her that warranted their respect.

He had seen Steve flush and stammer in her presence or offer the occasional compliment on an impressive mood mid-sparring session, but there was something about his obedience to authority and idealism that didn't gel romantically with Natasha's cynicism and smoldering sexuality in Clint's mind.

He had been informed by Tony in a dozen words or less that some of his very strongly held ideas were utter bullshit.

"You two should really talk," Tony admonished.

"We…talk," Clint mumbled lamely.

"He said you were bringing Scarlett," Natasha finally said, her face still utterly unreadable.

Tony raised his eyebrows, silently impressed. He hadn't provided this little detail and he wondered if it had been an inspired embellishment by the Captain or if he had been more right about this than even he imagined and Natasha's burgeoning jealously had filled in the nameless role.

"Who?" Clint asked helplessly, completely confused as to how they ended up here. He rubbed the back of his neck, wracking his brain to connect a face to this currently meaningless name.

"He said it was a recruit," Natasha supplied, the first hint of distrust and confusion causing the furrow in her brow to return.

Clint froze, his hand still grasping the back of his neck.

"The blonde? With the splits?" he asked, a creeping realization coming over him.

Natasha didn't even nod, she just looked at him pointedly and he swore loudly, leaning back into the sofa and bracing himself on the arm and back so that he could look at her fully.

"Jesus Christ Natasha, she's 19 years old."

He could see her actually look mildly embarrassed and she shrugged rather helplessly.

He knew she had some sort of misguided impression that he favored blondes. Little did she know he just favored her had a bit of a fascination with her as a blonde.

He thought he had been pretty casual about it but she had clearly felt his hungry gaze and lingering touch on their mission in Prague. They were sent to break up a human trafficking ring run by a kingpin with a notorious penchant for blondes. Something about the white blond hair setting off her flawless skin and kalediscoping green eyes had reduced him to a useless idiot nursing a ceaseless erection for nearly a week. He was lucky it was his job to stare and lucky that Natasha was good enough to rarely need much back up.

"I could be her father Nat," he continued heatedly, disgusted with the situation and himself that she honestly believed he could be interested in someone 15 years his junior. He had struggled enough with 24 year old Clint's attraction to 18 year old Natasha all those years ago.

"She's a pretty girl Barton. I'm only repeating what I've been told." The confusion was fading and he could hear an angry edge in her voice.

Clint tried to reign in his own anger and frustration but it hurt to hear that the woman he was in love with could be so easily convinced of his interest in a girl. That, on top of the bomb Tony had dropped, had him struggling to control a wide array of emotions.

"How the ever-loving fuck was he led to believe that?" he asked after a couple calming breaths. "I haven't seen her since orientation Nat, I swear."

Natasha opened her mouth to respond but Tony quickly interjected.

"You know how it is around there, rumors spread like lice in daycare. SHIELD is basically a high school full of incredibly agile adults."

He clapped Clint reassuringly on the back as he stood, "Don't worry Barton, Pepper has some moderately less atrocious cousins who would fight to the death for a dance with the famous Hawkeye."

"I'll be sure to pack my suit," he responded dully, "wouldn't want ladies killing each other over anything but the genuine article."

"That's the spirit," Tony said enthusiastically. "And if you'll excuse me I have some wedding night undergarments left to pack. Wouldn't want to disappoint Mrs. Stark with lackluster underwear on our first night together."

Neither Natasha nor Clint acknowledged the joke as Tony sauntered from the room.

"I wouldn't keep something like that from you," Clint promised, seeing that any rising anger had quickly dwindled in his partner. "I tell you when my vitamins make my urine funny colors, I'm certainly going to clue you into my love life when I so manage to have one."

Natasha gave him a funny little smile that he could not decipher. So much for secret partner language.

"And I remain so grateful for those bathroom updates," she teased before becoming completely serious. "It's not a love life Clint. I don't know why I believed you wouldn't mention it to me, it just seems like a logical next step for you to find someone and start dating so I guess I thought maybe you thought it went without saying."

Clint thought he heard a note of sadness but he knew that the optimistic part of his brain was prone to imagining things when Natasha was involved. The idea of him dating someone else had clearly come as a matter of due course to her, not inspiring any great deal of feeling one way or the other.

"So you and Rogers?" he offered, hoping the bitterness of the phrase on his tongue wasn't audible.

"He thought everyone had a date and so he asked," Natasha responded, "Honestly I think he just wanted to save me when he heard you were bringing someone, he has that compulsion to protect his friends' virtue and that sort of chivalrous stuff. I thought you had plans and he isn't an easy person to disappoint," she finished.

"Guess this is my fault for assuming your availability," he said, effectively absolving her of any guilt over abandoning her partner.

"Tony's right, we should pack," Natasha said to break the silence in which his regretful half apology hung. She slid the ridiculous tacky-cute kitten bookmark he had bought her into her book and tucked it under her arm. "We can still steal from the bar," she promised as she headed for the door of her bedroom.

"Is it really stealing if it's an open bar?" Clint asked, pretty sure this time the bitterness and regret he felt was dripping from every word.

Despite her assurances to the contrary he couldn't help but feel like this was both a first date and the beginning of the end. This was Captain fucking America and maybe despite their differences, Steve's positive selflessness was exactly what Nat needed and deserved.

Natasha paused at her door and looked back, "I'm sorry," she said quietly before leaving through the door for her apartment.

For the life of him, Clint couldn't have said exactly what she was apologizing for.

* * *

TBC... Reviews make my day! Thanks for reading yall!


	5. Chapter 4- There's No 'I' In Team

Title: By Your Side

Author: CharmingPromise

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters and are simply borrowing them for a brief period of time. Thank you Marvel for inspiring my imagination. The song this chapter is There's No I In Team and it belongs to Taking Back Sunday.

Part: 4/?

AN: Thanks for reading my foray back into fanfic! All of the reviews and favorites/follows are so encouraging and I appreciate each and every one. I hope this continues to live up to expectations.

AN2: I'm so sorry for the lack of updates. I am doing the quarter life crisis career change thing and currently doing some pretty intensive training so I can go be a teacher this upcoming school year! Rest assured this will get finished! I just have significantly less time on my hands for another couple weeks. Sorry for the recent delays but update frequency will increase soon.

AN3: Also its a little angsty and hard on our duo so far which I apologize for, but I promise the shippiness will increase mightily in chapters to come. You'll also notice that this chapter is Clint-centric like the last one. I wanted to swap back and forth but that would've made the last chapter wayyyy longer than I could handle so I broke it into two. In general it will be a back and forth though.

* * *

And I've got a twenty dollar bill

That says you're up late night starting

Fist fights versus fences in your backyard

Wearing your black eye like a badge of honor

Soaking in sympathy

From friends who never loved you

Nearly half as much as me

There's No I In Team- Taking Back Sunday

* * *

"Who's thirsty?" Clint announced, more than asked, as he strode into the kitchen.

He had spent the past couple hours back at the gym circling the indoor track like a man on a mission. For the first few miles he was tormented by visions of Natasha and Steve casually draped across each other during movie nights and splitting sandwiches when they ordered in for lunch while he was stuck with two halves of the same boring type. But after several dozen laps during which he thought he might be losing his mind he finally crossed the threshold of his endurance and the only things he felt were the burning of lactic acid building up in his legs and the fire in his oxygen starved lungs.

Clint put great stock in music and his brain was quick to make emotional connections between songs and his life, so his iPod was out of the question. The last thing he needed was one of Natasha's songs, that he would swear to anyone who asked that he hated, to come on and take him in the precise direction he was trying so desperately to avoid. The only sound was the thud of his feet on the track and his increasingly ragged breathing.

He lost track of his laps after 10 miles but he was sure he had at least doubled that before a cramp laid him out just right of the stairs and immediately in line with his arrow, still buried in the wall.

Clint fell back on the track staring up into the raters. He relished the final few minutes of peace in his head as his cramping quad gave its final contractions and his thudding pulse drowned out any thought. Slowly but surely though, he began to come back into his body and his mind immediately went to his current predicament with Natasha. It was like a cut in his mouth that he couldn't stop tonguing no matter how painful.

Having abused his legs as much as possible in a 24 hour span he was left with only one option.

"So who's thirsty?"

He had quickly showered and thrown on jeans and his cow-pokiest, down-homiest, middle America plaid. Natasha teased him mercilessly for his affected cowboy persona and ordinarily he was game to play along tossing out as many 'darlin's' and 'aw shucks' as it took to charm that wry smile out of her. But tonight his partner's preferences were of little consequence and he knew the worn flannel with the sleeves rolled up was a look he could work and when surrounded by the likes of Tony Stark and a literal Norse God he would take any advantage he could get.

The God in question was staring blankly at him from across the room.

"Alcohol," he clarified. "I'm going to get drunk. Who's with me?"

He tried to find it in himself not to care when Natasha's eyes ticked up from the crossword she was working on at the center island in the kitchen. She didn't say a word and her green gaze was as cool and impassive as it had been in the library earlier but she was still in those sweats and casual-Natasha was pretty much his kryptonite.

"Alcohol!" Thor repeated gamely. "I am very much in the mood for some alcohol. Jane has left me for what is called a 'girls night'," he explained as he rose and left his multitude of dinner dishes on the counter.

"I believe it has something to do with her fingernails."

"Atta boy," Clint cheered, "What about you Dr. Banner?"

Bruce took longer to answer as he silently pondered his options. He had only recently taken up drinking again on any level. That loss of control terrified him and drinking in public was an exceptional rarity. But he was perceptive, and a loyal friend, and was loath to neglect a teammate in pain.

"I'm in," he finally agreed, piling his own plate on top of Thor's many dirty dishes and joining the other two men at the door.

"It's a historic night indeed," Clint crowed in triumph, throwing Bruce a sincerely grateful smile.

These excursions were exceedingly rare, especially as their public profiles only increased with each outing. The lived in an era of reality TV stars and faux celebrities, famous by virtue of their infamy. Such a culture was incredibly eager to know anything and everything about the city's own resident superheroes.

While Natasha was always game for some good vodka on the deck, for shots and competitive card games within the confines of their home, it was not at all unusual for her to skip the occasional night out. She, more than anyone, detested being recognized, or worse, photographed.

"Give 'em hell boys," Natasha wished distractedly, not bothering to look up from her crossword. Clint winced and felt a pang of genuine sadness as they left the kitchen. He had no idea how his easy relationship with his best friend had decomposed so radically in less than 12 hours. He knew the genesis of his wretched mood but her chilly attitude was baffling. He could only assume that she was reading him, as she was like to, and didn't appreciate his reaction to this development in her life.

This one sided dance he had been having with her for years now, hiding his deeper feelings, stifling what was an almost overwhelming attraction, was slowly eating him alive. Now faced with actual competition for her attention it was like it had moved into double-time and he was stumbling over his own feet. He wasn't hiding his emotions as well as he had for so long, and with their inherent closeness she was bound to notice.

On any normal evening he would be sprawled across the island next to her helping with the pop culture, sports, and American history clues in the daily New York Times. There was no way she was going to finish the Wednesday issue without him.

Clint felt completely deflated, her quiet dismissal with none of the usual good natured teasing of his cowboy chic. He knew he couldn't keep this up.

Natasha was stronger willed than he was when it came to matters of their relationship. Maybe because she had more recently been alone, and trusted in her resilience to survive that lonely state again. Or maybe, as painful as it was to consider, she simply didn't care as much as he did.

This strained awkwardness was not a sustainable status quo and he knew it would fall on him to let it go. Put back on the facade that everything was just peachy and they were nothing more than dear old friends.

He would go back to chewing the inside of his cheek bloody to stop from telling her she was beautiful and white knuckling the arm of his chair to keep from brushing wayward red curls out of her face.

Only now he would have to sit there and watch someone else do it instead.

So while he was aware of the act he would need to put on once more first thing tomorrow morning, he though he earned one night of half-assed honesty, and he was getting hammered with his friends.

Usually Clint would only leave the tower with his battered Orioles cap planted solidly on his head as some small effort towards disguise. He began cheering on the team just to torment devout Yankees fan Steve Rogers but it had slowly evolved into a true allegiance.

Despite losing some of its luster and innocence in doping scandals and wayward players, it was still something Rogers could cling to from his old life. Watching the players in pinstripes out on the diamond brought him some level of peace, but that didn't mean he deserved to watch a sporting event un-heckled, it simply wouldn't be the true fan experience that way. Clint was more than happy to take on the task. The pair never missed a local series.

Tonight he just couldn't bring himself to grab the cap and deal with the memories it inspired. Disguise was pretty much a moot point tonight can't hide a Thor under a baseball cap.

"Should I go get the Captain?" Thor asked as they waited for JARVIS to call the elevator for them.

"He has plans," Bruce covered shortly, saving Clint from some pathetic sputtering excuse. He clapped the Doctor on the back in silent thanks.

JARVIS had the elevator deposit them on the first floor.

"Have an enjoyable evening sirs," the AI wished them, "Try to remember to stop by the kitchen for some water before bed."

"Do you think Tony programmed him with the judgmental parent bit or if that just naturally arose running the home of the overgrown man-child that is Tony Stark?" Clint asked as they stepped out into the brisk evening to walk the few blocks to their favorite bar. He could feel the tension slowly slipping from between his shoulders and in his jaw as he increased the distance from his home.

Avengers Tower was ordinarily his favorite place in the world but today it had felt like a torture chamber.

"I do not enjoy these frigid temperatures," Thor complained, "I do not understand how such a large population could be established in such an inhospitable climate."

"It's a mystery my friend," Clint replied, some humor returning now that he was out of the tower and removed from the possibility of any further awkward encounters for the evening. "The national IQ does seem to drop south of the district though, this is just the price you pay for the luxury of a blue state."

"Your political system holds little interest for me," Thor said, apparently having learned some of the lingo during his free days in the movie theater. "I will be grateful for the trip to a warmer location this weekend."

They reached Horse You Came In On, a corner bar several short blocks away, and were greeted by the regular bouncer.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" the musclebound man at the door boomed. Spike resembled an only slightly slimmer, punk rock version of Thor and was a large part of their preference for this particular establishment. The man treated them as he would any other semi-regular patrons and was always game from some good-natured ribbing.

"On a Wednesday night no less, and my Hawk dressed up and ready to role-play Wild Wild West with me," he gushed.

Clint doffed an imaginary hat as they slid by into the bar. He was baffled as to how he had become the object of Spike's flirtation when he was surrounded by objectively more handsome men on the majority of occasions.

Natasha said it was because he played along which was supported by the fact that Steve had initially been included in his flirting but since that first night dominated by blushing and sputtering on the part of the Captain, the bleached bouncer had largely left him alone.

Spike said it was because he liked the way his ass looked in a pair of jeans.

As soon as they made their way into the main room of the bar the business's owner intercepted them, a disconcertingly wide smile on his face. While Spike was a friend who made them feel easily welcome, Tucker, the owner, was all fawning adoration. If it weren't for the charming bouncer and close proximity Tucker would be more than enough to keep them away. The man had the slimy countenance of a salesman and his obsequious catering to them had more to do with what their celebrity could do for his bar's prestige than respect for them and who they were.

"Gentlemen," he greeted them, "it's always a wonderful honor to have the patronage of our city's saviors."

Clint and Bruce smiled thinly while Thor outright scowled at the oily little man as he ushered them quickly to the first VIP booth. Tucker coldly evicted a debatably aged and scandalously dressed young girl Clint thought he recognized as a pop starlet from the most recent season of one of television's numerous singing competitions and made sure the trio was comfortably settled before sliming away.

"Now I definitely need a drink," Bruce drawled.

"Here, here," Clint agreed and hopped up from the booth. He shot the beleaguered bar tender a wave of acknowledgment as he snagged a bottle of Whiskey and a beer from behind the bar. While they likely could have drank for free across the city, Tony was also notorious for over-settling tabs and had a great deal of credit racked up nearly everywhere.

Clint slid the beer over to Bruce and set the bottle of whiskey between himself and Thor. He had been forced to adopt vodka as his drink of choice over the past decade with his strong-willed partner who refused any colored liquor with a disdainful sneer but tonight he was going to return to his roots and get embarrassingly drunk on shitty American whiskey.

Clint usually had to pace himself when drinking with Thor, moderating his shots at a ratio of 1 for every 5 his large friend took, but tonight he was keeping up better at a rate of 1 to every 3 and he could feel a tingling settling into his joints and chest.

The three sat in the booth, enjoying their drinks and easy conversation over Tony's latest explosion down in the lab and Jane, Amy, and Darcy's mysterious 'girl's night'. Clint envied their uncomplicated relationships and fought the temptation to let the alcohol take him somewhere bitter and cranky. That was not the point of the night after all.

A companionable silence fell and Bruce looked at him with a sudden seriousness. He was 3 beers in and Clint knew with his diminished tolerance he was starting to get pretty buzzed.

"So are we going to discuss what you were running away from tonight?" Bruce asked pointedly. "Is this the healthiest way to deal with that?"

"No, but it's the most fun," Clint pouted. He knew he wasn't going to get through the night without this conversation and was eager to get it over with.

Bruce looked at him disappointedly while Thor just looked confused.

"Steve asked Natasha to the wedding this weekend," Clint told him, still hating the way the phrase tasted on his tongue.

"She said yes," Bruce elaborated, but Thor looked no less confused.

"Why would he do such a thing?" he asked, almost sounding as though he had been the one betrayed, "We have all discussed Barton's feelings for the lady of the house, including Steve."

Bruce winced and Clint left his forehead bang down onto the table with a groan of humiliation.

"We don't discuss you and Natasha explicitly," Bruce deflected, a friendly hand on his shoulder.

"Yes we do. You yourself have said it makes you quite sad to see your friend Clint unable to voice his feelings and Tony speculates on the blueness of his testicles." Thor retorted honestly. As stated before, he was still not quite up to date on human social norms.

Clint groaned louder, raising his head a few inches off the table to make embarrassed eye contact with his two friends. He had expected that they had some inkling as to his feelings for his partner but group conversations about his pathetic infatuation, that was humiliating.

"It's not mean spirited. We care about you and Natasha and just want the best for you both," Bruce added softly and Thor nodded in enthusiastic agreement. "I think both of us understand what it's like to want someone we think we can't have."

Clint finally sat back, but not before taking a long swig from the bottle of whiskey.

"Have you considered just telling her how you feel?" Bruce asked.

Clint couldn't help noticing the vague terms they spoke in; care about, feel for.

"You mean that I'm in love with her?" Clint said bluntly. Might as well stop dancing around the reality of it. They had clearly figured it out long ago anyway.

Bruce nodded and Clint snorted disparagingly.

"Have you met Natasha?" he asked, more sadness than venom in his voice. "She's the strongest woman I've ever met. On her worst day it's like living with a lioness, all pride and courage. But the second you try and talk about feelings? She transforms into a white-tailed deer and bolts without warning."

"I am familiar with that species," Thor said wisely. "I watched a film of the cartoon variety about a small one. I believe it was a child's movie but I don't think I will ever show it to my progeny."

"Bambi?" Clint offered, grateful for the distraction.

"Yes, they killed his mother. I did not enjoy that." Thor scowled.

"I don't think Disney is going to be for you then my friend," Clint warned. "Those movies are chock full of parental death and misery."

Bruce cleared his throat to bring the conversation back to the matter at hand.

"All I'm saying is you'll never know until you try," he offered, obviously willing to let the conversation drop since that is what his friend clearly wanted.

"Yeah well, the Cap beat me to that didn't he?" Clint responded bitterly, taking another long swallow and passing the bottle to Thor who followed suit.

Bruce raised his beer bottle to them and finished off the last of the alcohol to signal his forfeit. There was no reason to harp on the issue further.

The conversation slowly returned to its earlier easy flow as they began to compile a list of movies Thor was to avoid if he was so burdened by Bambi's mothers demise. Clint was cautioning him strongly away from The Lion King when a group of preppily attired grad students approached their booth.

"The Avenger's slumming it down among the common folk," the seeming leader drawled mockingly.

They were frequently approached when they were out, for pictures, autographs, and obvious attempts to glom onto their however unwanted fame; but every so often they would run into the opposite. People jealous or distrustful of their abilities and status, tearing them down to build themselves up.

"Where's Agent Tits-n-Ass?" he asked, a smarmy grin on his face. "If you're going to come in here and take up the best booth in the place all night you might as well bring something for us to look at.

"Fortunately for you, somewhere she can't hear you call her that," Clint responded dryly.

Thor rose to a half stand, the best he could manage, even in the biggest booth in the bar, "You would dare speak of a lady in that manner?" he demanded, slowly sinking back into his seat at the shake of Clint's head. It wouldn't play well for the god of thunder to flatten 5 twenty-somethings at the bar, no matter how insufferable they were.

The majority of the group backed up a few steps, seemingly thinking twice in picking a fight with a literal god but the leader seemed unperturbed.

"And you, is it even safe for you to be out in public?" he asked, addressing Bruce at the back of the booth.

"It wouldn't be if I was provoked by childish taunts from anthropology majors in over-priced polo shirts," he responded cooly and even some of the man's friends snickered behind him.

Having been embarrassed in front of his friends, the co-ed seemed even more determined to pick a fight and turned his attention back to Clint. "But seriously, where's the red head? I'm not normally a fan of gingers but I would make an exception for that rack."

"Yeah, I'd bury my arrow in her quiver alright," one of his lackeys piped up behind him giving Clint a lascivious wink. Clint was well aware of the tabloid speculation on the nature of his relationship with Natasha but rarely liked to be reminded of it.

He could feel his composure starting to slip. On another night his feathers would have been harder to ruffle but tonight, with everything with the Captain and on his second bottle of whiskey with Thor, he wasn't feeling as magnanimous as usual.

"Or is it a tag team type situation?" the initial speaker asked. "Dressing the way she does, and she looks like she has an absolutely filthy mouth. I bet you all pass her around like a bad cold."

Thor literally growled and was lunging out of the booth but Clint, with his slimmer frame and archer's agility, was already up and dropped the offending man with a single swing.

Spike was on the scene in seconds, heaving the unconscious man up and out of the bar, his terrified friends scurrying after and Tucker was at his elbow not long after, apologizing profusely for the inconvenience.

Clint waved him off as he shook out his fist.

Thor had finally managed to extricate himself from the booth and thumped Clint appreciatively on the back, "Outstanding!" he thundered, raising a third bottle of whiskey to the sky and laughing delightedly.

Clint could feel a smile creep across his own face as applause started to spread through the bar and Bruce grabbed the bottle of whiskey for a celebratory shot of his own.

"A round for the whole bar!" Clint shouted and cheering broke out for real.

Their anonymity blown, the three spent the next couple hours accepting drinks from appreciative citizens and generally enjoying their night. Clint was sure that some of the pictures he saw being snapped would end up in the paper within the week but everyone was quite friendly with the negative element effectively removed, and it was one of the better nights he and the others had out since the battle with the Chitauri.

A statuesque brunette was paying special attention to Clint and he let the alcohol sweep him away and flirted shamelessly. Natasha Who?

"You know who I am right?" Clint slurred as the woman squeezed next to him in the booth.

"Am I supposed to?" she asked coyly and Clint smiled. While she clearly saw that he was somebody, she didn't seem to know exactly who they were, and as unbelievable as that may be it was very refreshing for a couple hours.

Last call sounded and Clint, Thor, and Bruce stumbled to their feet to begin the short trek home. Clint's mystery brunette halted him before the door, pulled out a pink lipstick and slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Clint looked at her blearily, not entirely sure what was happening or if he was happy about it but too far gone to know how to stop it.

"Heather," she told him seductively, writing her name and phone number across his torso in the lipstick. "Call me."

Clint nodded drunkenly and caught up to his two friends outside where they were deep in conversation with a bemused, and sober, bouncer.

"Get home safe," he wished them as they started down the street.

"That is a terrible idea," Bruce warned him, gesturing to his unbuttoned shirt and the flowery pink writing across his chest.

"Probably," Clint said, the even colder air at 2 AM, sobering him up minutely. "It's just a number." he added, fully aware he had no genuine interest in the tall brunette with her carefully rehearsed flirtation.

"To bed!" Thor shouted when JARVIS brought the elevator down to the lobby for them. JARVIS completely ignored this direction and deposited them on the kitchen level where bottled water was sitting on the counter in an orderly row.

"Thanks Dad," Clint shouted to the AI, grabbing a bottle and downing almost half of it in one long gulp.

"You're welcome," a distinctly feminine voice said and he spun around to see Natasha seated at the kitchen table with a book and a frown. Thor and Bruce quickly grabbed their water and made a hasty retreat for the elevator.

Clint stared open mouthed at his partner and was overcome with shame. He knew she was a night owl but he hadn't expected her to be sitting there waiting. And he certainly hadn't expected to be partially undressed with another woman's number across his stomach in front of her.

He tried to shake it off. He was an adult goddamnit and he had every right to get piss drunk and flirt with other consenting adults when he had a mind to. In fact his sexy little partner did exactly this on a semi-regular basis, minus the anonymous flirting, and he never made her feel guilty about it.

Natasha unfolded herself from the kitchen chair and walked past him.

"I'm glad you had fun," she said coolly, her eyes pointedly trained on his chest before moving up to meet his gaze. Too drunk for a coherent response Clint just brought his water bottle back to his lips as she stalked out of the kitchen.

Clint slumped, feeling even more defeated than earlier, all good will he had amassed from the jovial night out with friends draining away entirely. He wished with everything that he was that he had just stayed in after all. Fuck his pride and jealousy, it hadn't been worth seeing that disappointment from his partner. He glanced at the crossword, abandoned on the kitchen's island as he refilled his water bottle at the sink. Unfinished, as predicted. They were partners in everything and he was embarrassed for letting his petty jealously allow him to forget that.

Clint took the refilled bottle and stumbled into the elevator and then into his room where he went immediately to the bathroom.

He dropped a pink stained washcloth into the sink, not bothering to copy down the number, before falling into bed.

* * *

TBC (hopefully sooner than this time!) Reviews make me smile!


	6. Chapter 5- Homesick At Space Camp

Title: By Your Side

Author: CharmingPromise

Rating: M

Disclaimer: I own none of these characters and are simply borrowing them for a brief period of time. Thank you Marvel for inspiring my imagination. The song this chapter is Homesick at Space Camp by Fall Out Boy (I am so dating myself). There are 3 songs within the body of this chapter which are, in order, 'Wedding Dress' by Matt Nathanson (because he is the best), 'Detachable Penis' (yes its a real song) by King Missile, and finally 'Blinded' by Third Eye Blind.

Part: 5/?

AN: Thanks for reading my foray back into fanfic! All of the reviews and favorites/follows are so encouraging and I appreciate each and every one. I hope this continues to live up to expectations. An extra special thank you to the dedicated readers who review each chapter… you guys rock and I am sending you so much love.

AN2: I'm so sorry again for the delay. I hope that a very long chapter makes up for the wait. I never gave my teachers enough credit…. it is a truly time consuming job, but I PROMISE this will be completed and I will do everything I can to update more reliably.

AN3: I started watching Haven on Netflix and OMG I'm obsessed. I will be eternally grateful for some good Nathan (swoon) and Audrey recs. Between those 2 and Clintasha I feel like a real fangirl again.

* * *

And I can't forget your style or your cynicism

Somehow it was like you were the first to listen

To everything we said

My smile's an open wound without you

And my hands are tied to pages inked to bring you back

Tonight the headphones will deliver you the words that I can't say

Homesick At Space Camp- Fall Out Boy

* * *

Natasha wrapped her hair in a towel as she stepped from the shower and out into the steam-filled bathroom.

It had been an unpleasant night to put it mildly. Staying up to see the boys return had not been the initial plan but as the hours stretched on and they still hadn't returned her anxiety and curiosity were both piqued enough that she taken up a vigil in the kitchen. That had made for a late night in itself even without the tossing and turning she had done in bed for far too long after they had returned.

Sitting at that table, in a moment of rare self-awareness and honesty, she allowed herself to acknowledge that the tightness in her chest had something to do with the fact that the longer Clint stayed out, the greater the chance he was going to come stumbling in with a girl draped over his arm. She wasn't willing to address why this made it feel like her heart was being squeezed in a vice but it was pronounced enough that she had to at least acknowledge the condition.

The two of them were usually so effortlessly in synch, but today had been filled with fumbles and missed connections. It had thrown her for a loop when Steve had asked her to the wedding and she genuinely regretted not having cemented plans with her partner earlier, but she had apologized, and Clint's prickly mood hadn't improved, if anything, it had gotten even worse.

His attitude was was utterly confusing, it wasn't as if they weren't going to spend the majority of their time on the island together anyway, just as they always did. He was acting more like a jilted lover than a friend whose anticipated good time had encountered a slight wrinkle.

It wasn't making any sense to her that he would ignore her assurances that this was nothing romantic on her end. Even if it was a date she couldn't see why he would be so bothered. He was, after all, the only man in the world to ever turn her down she remembered bitterly.

And that was how she chose to rationalize the effect this was having on her. Her ego simply couldn't take seeing him bring home a random girl when he had been so picky to turn her down.

She should have been delighted when it was just her three roommates stumbling in at the end of the night, all heavy feet and slurred laughter but Bruce and Thor's guilty retreat thew up her guard right away. Then Clint had turned around with his shirt hanging open and that desperate, silly phone number was scrawled across his chest and she saw red. This reaction didn't fit with her ego narrative but in those few short minutes in the kitchen she was beyond rationalizing.

Part of it was that she thought Clint was better than a girl that would pull such a transparent stunt not to mention wear that garish shade of lipstick.

And part of it was because he had on that goddamn button down with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms and even with another woman's number scrawled on his torso it sent a straight shot of heat to her core.

Bust most of it was because she had spent the majority of the evening feeling like she was forgetting something. She had unpacked and repacked twice trying to figure out what was causing that nagging sense of something lost, and aimlessly wandered the tower to jog her memory. Then he had walked in, and everything clicked back into place. It wasn't something she forgot to pack, or a chore left undone before they left tomorrow, it was Clint's absence that was making her feel that way, and that scared the ever-loving shit out of her.

So she had feigned that the disgust was at him rather than herself and brushed past with a scowl and a verbal jab before hastily retreating to her bedroom where she spent a few more sleepless hours panicked over her confusing emotions. She and Clint had been growing increasingly close over the years but to feel bereft when he was gone for so short as an evening was more than a little troubling.

Natasha shook her hair loose from the towel and pulled on a pair of black leggings and a long black tunic. She wasn't sure what she was mourning exactly but the black felt appropriate and she knew how the leggings accented one of her genetically gifted assets. Clint especially seemed to appreciate the view and since he had so rudely disrupted her sleep last night she intended to make him equally uncomfortable today. For a platonic couple they spent an unusual amount of time admiring each other's asses Tony had once pointed out.

She grabbed her duffle bag and headed to the kitchen for a quick breakfast before their flight. Around 3 am last night she had come to the decision that she would continue the course and act as though nothing had changed. As if she hadn't come to some startling realizations about exactly how much her partner was coming to mean to her, and what some people might try and call these feelings.

Most of the team was already in the kitchen including the individual responsible for the circles under her eyes this morning. Clint sat at the island with a cup of coffee sitting untouched in front of him and sunglasses perched on his nose, last nights activities clearly having caught up with him come morning. Thor didn't look much better as he sat at the other end of the counter glaring into a bowl of corn flakes and even Bruce was staring listlessly at the comics instead of leafing through the science section like usual.

Natasha walked purposefully over to her hurting partner and friend and leveled her mouth by his ear, "GOOD MORNING AGENT BARTON!"

Clint winced and glared at her from behind his sporty sunglasses, "You are a cruel and hateful woman Romanoff."

"I hope you all know that you deserve this for going out without me," Tony scolded as he strode into the kitchen, trailed by Pepper and two women Natasha didn't recognize. "Friends these are Pepper's people, people these are my friends."

Pepper rolled her eyes and gestured first to the short blonde she introduced as Shannon, an old sorority sister, and the tall brunette was Heather, her cousin.

Natasha felt Clint get up next to her and watched him walk over and vomit a watery gruel into the sink.

"JARVIS!" Tony summoned. "Page medical and tell them to send someone up with an IV. Our pilot can't hold his liquor."

Clint wiped his mouth and pushed his sunglasses up onto his head, "Didn't know who I was eh?" he asked and Natasha looked between him and the newcomers confused.

The brunette looked slightly sheepish, "I figured that was what you wanted to hear."

"Well at least that's honest," Clint replied with a scowl.

Tony looked in between the two with obvious glee and realization began to dawn on Natasha. Her suspicions were confirmed by the shocked look on Thor's face and Bruce's frown.

"Well isn't this adorable?" Tony asked rhetorically, though he was staring right at Natasha with a knowing grin.

Natasha sized the woman up quickly, not wanting to be caught staring and give Tony any such satisfaction. She was tall, nearly as tall as Clint, and tan, dark hair and eyes, not remotely what she had seen Barton express interest in in the past.

"It's nice to meet both of you," Natasha said tersely and left the kitchen without eating breakfast. She wasn't entirely sure why but it had felt like every eye in the room was on her, waiting for a reaction and she didn't appreciate being on display.

She grabbed her duffle bag and brushed past the medic on their way to the kitchen with a saline IV. She hated the irrational dislike she felt for this stranger and even more so that it was the second time in 24 hours she had this particular emotion flare up at the prospect of another woman in Clint's life.

She was fairly certain loud-mouthed Darcy would tell her this was what jealousy felt like but what did she know anyway.

Natasha thew her bag into the trunk of the shuttle that was already waiting for them out front and settled into a back seat with a book and her iPod.

It wasn't long before the rest of the group piled in after loading their luggage. Steve wandered back to the seat across from her and gave a small wave before turning his attention to his own book. Clint looking decidedly less woozy, but no less miserable, slumped into a front seat, Pepper's cousin following close. The ride to the airport was short and dominated largely by Tony's never ending stream of conversation for which Natasha was actually grateful. When they arrived she and Clint took their places in the cockpit of the private plane in silence.

"She seems…. tall," Natasha finally offered, unwilling to let the awkwardness extend any longer. Clint was clearly unhappy and likely still nursing a bit of a hangover and she didn't want to torture him further.

"She's insipid," Clint replied, adjusting his headset and shooting her a crooked smile for the first time that morning. Natasha responded in kind and normalcy was more or less reestablished. They spent the remainder of the flight in what was a close approximation of their typical easy conversation.

Given her utter dedication to ignoring her emotions and her even stronger aversion to discussing them, this wasn't entirely unusual for the two of them. Burying emotions and pretending nothing had happened for the good of their continued friendship was something like a constant at this point.

A particularly oafish mark in Prague had gotten off a lucky shot 7 years ago that might have meant the end of her had Clint not intentionally taken the bullet in his hip. It hadn't been a life threatening injury but it had laid him up on crutches for a couple weeks and he sported a scar just above his hip bone that she definitely had never fantasized kissing on her way down his anatomy.

Furious hadn't begun to describe how she felt, sitting there by his bedside when he came out of surgery. Anger was pretty much the only feeling she was truly comfortable expressing and she did so in the most Russian of fashions much of the time. She had shouted and seethed about needless risks and being able to take care of herself. Clint had let her rant until she insisted for the fifth or so time that she did not need someone to protect her, at which point he had snapped himself.

'You think I don't know that? You are the strongest woman I've ever met but I am your fucking partner Tash. It's my job to make sure you don't get a bullet to the head wether you want protection or not.'

'Not at your own risk,' she had retorted angrily.

'You really don't understand how this works do you?' he had asked in disbelief. 'I actually care about what happens to you. I'd rather take a through and through to the hip and a week on crutches than lose my best friend.'

She had been silenced by that. They had been partners for 3 years and had gradually begun to spend more and more of their free time in each other's presence but to have it laid out so bare was a first.

She had never had anyone consider her a friend of any sort much less this exclusive 'best' friend title and she certainly didn't expect to have it be mutual. But his admission had made her realize exactly why she was so angry with his recent attempt to save her. It wasn't her pride or any concern about a botched mission that bothered her, it was the gut-wrenching fear she had experienced when he went down.

So she buried it. Her concern for his well-being, the knowledge that for the first time ever there was someone in her world that she gave a shit whether they remained there or not. That she _cared_.

She struggled with everyone's desire to put a name to it but she had long ago come to the realization that she cared for the archer and on some level she did want him to understand that. It came so easy to Clint, throwing out personal nicknames and asserting their friendship. The casual contact expressing their closeness, nudging her in a meeting, throwing his legs up on her chair, draping his arm around the back of the couch behind her, all seemed effortless to him while she overthought every move she made. She was accustomed to using her body to manipulate and it was hard to completely remove herself from the headspace where each small movement she made was a deliberate tactic. She floundered daily for ways to be the friend Clint Barton deserved and make sure that he knew that he meant something to her, while shying away from any genuine expressions of emotion or attachment.

The closest she had come was Manhattan. Admitting that him being compromised had meant a similar outcome for her. He had looked at her for a long time after that admission. Stormy blue eyes searching her profile as she stared straight ahead.

He had just been through the worst experience of his thirty-some years of life and she had seen him sinking into a pit of self loathing and depression.

She had to let him know that she had similarly been through the ringer, and that no matter what, they were still a team.

He looked like he wanted to ask for more, for clarification or affirmation of something but he hadn't.

That was why this was the constant state for them. Her backing down and quashing any discussion of feelings and him respecting her limits.

So that was what happened again. Any lingering weirdness or tension from the day before was simply ignored. They pretended it didn't happen for the benefit of their uncomplicated, uncompromised, friendship.

They landed at the small airstrip on Tony's island (as yet unnamed as far as she knew) and each Avenger was shuttled to their own spacious villa quickly after deplaning. Pepper, used to running the company and life of one Tony Stark, was used to having to plan every second of every day when things needed to get done. Tony was apt to spend weeks holed up in his lab, possibly without nourishment, if left completely to his own devices, so it fell on Pepper to make sure he saw the light of day and attended to the various obligations a man of his stature held.

This micromanaging had a nasty habit of spilling over into her personal life and Natasha had heard that the majority of their weekend was planned down to the very last minute. This night they were expected at a bonfire on the beach but until then they had the afternoon entirely to their own disposal.

Natasha threw some clothes into drawers and closets and changed into some warm weather workout gear, stopping briefly in the lavish bathroom to pull her long red curls back in a ponytail. She tugged on sneakers and walked right out onto the beach of the small Caribbean island. She smiled wryly, thinking how confused her previous self would be if she was given a glimpse of this moment. Stepping out of her very own beachfront room, to go for a run simply for exercise's sake, to kill time before meeting up with her friends. How unnatural that would seem to her Before. And that was how she thought about her life prior to Clint and SHIELD. Before, with the capital B.

She jogged down to the water's edge and began a run along the beach. She snaked her headphones up through her tank top but left them hanging as she listened to the lapping of the calm Caribbean surf and the bustle of the others as they moved into their weekend villas.

She had been running for at least a mile when she heard the fall of heavier steps behind her, coming up much quicker than is strictly expected of a human. It was instinct to tense up and prepare for a fight when she was being chased but she focused on remaining stoic as the other runner caught up. This was vacation, and though it was always a possibility for them, it was unlikely that danger was lurking around every corner.

Natasha bumped Steve lightly with her hip and gave him a friendly smile as he kept pace next to her.

"Think you can keep up, Cap?" she joked. She typically despised running with someone else but part of this new life, the After, meant acting like a normal human being and doing things that your friends wanted to do for no reason other than they wanted to. That didn't mean she always loved it though and the only time she really enjoyed company on a run was with Clint.

When it was Barton they could push each other, she was faster but he was taller so it ended up being a very even race and both of them got a better workout from the other's presence.

This was not the case with Captain Rodgers. She knew he had sprinted up from quite far back, catching up over a mile with ease, and what he was doing at her side now barely qualified as a light jog with his enhanced abilities.

"Maybe I should be the one calling you Cap," he said with an easy smile, "thanks for flying us down here."

"Clint does most of the work," she said honestly, "I'm just the world's deadliest co-pilot."

Their services were rarely actually requested, none of their friends wanted to impose on them, but the truth was that Natasha sincerely enjoyed her time in the cockpit with her partner, them and miles of open sky and so they were always quick to offer.

"Any plans on how you're going to spend your short week in paradise?" Steve asked, still trotting gamely next to her, barely needing to catch his breath during the conversation.

"Honestly right now all I want is a nap," Natasha responded truthfully. "As soon as I've appeased my guilt with this run I've got a date with memory foam and some Egyptian cotton, if I know Tony's decorating taste. I didn't sleep that well last night."

Steve shot her a concerned glance. None of the team was free from nightmares. People in their line of work had a lot of violent and painful fodder for their self conscious to play with at night and Natasha especially had some of the most brutal inspiration laying dormant.

"Nothing like that," she assured him without even hearing the question. "Just excited for the trip," she finished lamely. She was pretty sure Steve didn't buy that for a minute, but she wasn't going to admit to him that it had been thoughts of her ostensibly platonic partner that had kept her up tossing and turning.

Whether he believed it or not Steve seemed willing to accept her response and fortunately moved on. "Could I stop by and walk you to the bonfire tonight?" he asked, eyes trained ahead of him as though this light jog took more effort than it possibly could.

Natasha disguised a slight flinch by putting her arm up to wipe away sweat. "Sure," she agreed after a quick beat of silence. If she had had any question what exactly Steve's intentions had been when he asked to be her escort they were quickly being answered. Her initial hope was that he was just asking so he could give Pepper the go ahead in sitting them next to each other but it was becoming abundantly clear that he planned to make this a full scale… date?

Natasha was baffled by this sudden attention from the Captain and, having never considered the possibility, she had no plan for deflection, much less a fully thought out stance on how she felt about the whole thing. She supposed that most people didn't need that sort of thing. Feelings were just something that happened in a moment rather than reactions that were carefully weighed and measured, all considerations given their due but she really wasn't most people.

"Great," Steve said happily, "I'll stop by at 6." With that he gave up any pretense of keeping pace with her and easily sped ahead. Natasha felt a pang of real guilt as she watched his athletic form sprint ahead. Steve Rogers deserved someone who felt something more than detached appreciation when he was shirtless and sweaty. He should have someone to whom gentleness and sincerity came naturally. He might be interested in her skills and her pretty exterior. Hell, he might even think she was clever or amusing. But the bottom line was that someone like Captain America was not a match for someone as calculating as her.

It wasn't that she thought she was broken or unworthy of her stalwart friend, she was a confident woman who knew her many desirable traits, she just also knew that she and the Captain weren't a match as anything other than great friends and teammates, which made this sudden seeming interest on his end so unsettling.

Natasha pulled a turn around a nearby palm tree and started running back in the direction she had come. She stopped by a small beachfront bar which was already staffed and open, because Tony Stark, and because of course it was, and grabbed a bottle of water before walking back to her villa for a shower and some much needed sleep. She was a spy, and now an Avenger, and it's not as though sleepless nights (or weeks) were an anomaly for her, but this was vacation and she was not going to let a flash of her partner's admittedly impressive abs leave her sleep deprived all weekend.

She was draining her water bottle and nearing her villa when she heard voices approaching around the corner from lobby area.

"I just think a man who knows how to control heavy machinery is SO sexy."

Natasha rolled her eyes.

"I mean you literally flew us here." Pepper's bridesmaid was nearly draped over a rather cross looking Clint as he rounded the corner.

"There are a number of individuals here that can literally fly," Clint drawled neatly disentangling himself from the slender brunette, "I, however, am not one of them."

"You know what I mean," she pouted, "and I think it's super hot."

Natasha felt a second of relief when she saw Clint's exasperated gaze shoot skyward, as if in some plea to a deity she knew he didn't believe in, that quickly dissolved into a possessive flash of anger as the girl snaked her arms around Clint once more, the fingers of one hand hooking into a belt loop of his jeans.

Natasha fixated on the waistband of her partner's jeans more than she was strictly comfortable admitting. Clint alternated between loose, low-slung jeans that would expose a sliver of tanned hip and stomach whenever he reached for something and darker, more form-fitting models that hugged his ass. Each was distracting for her in it's own right and the sight of this intruder with her fingers dancing around the waist of her favorite pair sparked an unwelcome resentment.

Clint returned his gaze to the path in front of him and caught sight of Natasha heading his direction. There was nothing casual or surreptitious about the way he disengaged from the other girl's grasp this time. He jumped away from her in a manner Natasha wasn't sure she had ever seen from the usually composed sniper.

"Natasha!" he greeted with a warm smile although she thought she could hear a note of guilt in his voice which she attributed to his worry over the teasing she may give him later over his companion.

The warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the hot Caribbean sun and everything to do with her partner's sunny smile pained her.

She had heard rumor of Clint's sexual prowess and his progress through the SHIELD lady pool prior to her arrival but had seen little evidence of this promiscuity over the 10 years of their partnership. A few girls had hovered on the periphery over the years but there had never been anything serious, and certainly nothing that he let bleed over into their work relationship, so Natasha had scant opportunities to address how she felt about Clint and other women. She was quickly realizing that she had a distinct dislike for the concept.

Agent Barton was her coworker, Hawkeye was her partner, and Clint was her best friend, and she genuinely did want him to be happy. It was still a unique experience for her to care about another human being's continued existence much less their well being and emotional state but Clint had quickly inserted himself into her life and forced her to do exactly that. Friends were a tricky thing in that at a certain point their happiness starts to be directly tied to your own.

She also knew that Clint deserved to find someone to have a relationship with. Clint came with his own lion's share of baggage but not the distrustful cynicism that made her so ill-suited for romance.

She saw their friends and teammates with their respective matches and wanted the seeming happiness they shared for him, but it had never occurred to her to consider the effect it might have on herself.

Love was for children so she should, at most, feel an indulgent acceptance over his naiveté not this sick apprehension punctuated by flashes of jealous anger.

"Barton," she replied, more coldly than intended, "and Hannah right?" she said addressing the girl next to him who was currently regarding her suspiciously.

"Heather," the woman corrected, not bothering to extend her hand. Clint gave her a sideways look as well, knowing full well that Natasha Romanoff didn't forget a name or face.

There was a moment of tense silence and Natasha was sure she would have blushed had she been anyone else. She had no idea why she had pretended not to remember Heather's name and even less understanding of the smug satisfaction she was currently feeling afterwards.

"Well I have the tail end of a hangover to sleep off," Clint said, breaking into the awkward standoff. "I'll see you tonight at the bonfire Nat." With that he made a deliberate retreat into his assigned villa.

Natasha stood silently regarding Heather for a few seconds longer, enjoying seeing the woman fidget under her intense gaze.

"So what are you two?" Heather asked with a frown. She had been under the impression after last night that Clint was available but two awkward encounters with Natasha in less than 24 hours was making her second guess that assumption.

"He's my partner," Natasha responded as cryptically as she could and brushed past the woman on the way to her own villa which, as it turned out, was directly next door to said partner.

Natasha shot the empty water bottle into the trashcan from across the room and leaned back on the door to both survey the room and collect her thoughts.

The villa was beautifully furnished and toed the fine line between tropical and elegant very effectively. She had an enormous bed and she could see into the lavish bathroom from her current position to tally a whirlpool tub complete with jets and a ludicrously large glass shower. All of these observations passed over her with very little acknowledgment from her racing brain.

She was jealous. It took every ounce of her self control to keep her mind from wandering to what exactly that might mean on a larger scale.

She watched all of her friends in their various relationships on a daily basis. Even Steve had brought a date or two back to the tower for strictly PG rated socializing and she had never had even the vaguest hint of this resentment and anger. There was a very small part of her that actually wanted to inflict harm on this random new woman who had done nothing more significant than tell Clint Barton that he was sexy.

Natasha bumped her head back against the door as if to dislodge the jealousy snaking through yet again at just the thought of how this woman had unbuttoned his shirt the night before and run her hands along his chest while writing that ridiculous phone number on there.

She stripped off her tank top and shorts and fell into bed without even bothering to shower off the sand or sweat. She buried her head in the pillow and let out a muffled groan. This was years of carefully constructed defenses and half-truths crumbling around her. She had spent nearly a decade consciously ignoring a growing attraction, and feelings more complicated than she let herself acknowledge, and to have that challenged in such a way was making her feel immensely frustrated, scared, and somehow silly.

Despite pretenses Natasha was not an entirely serious person. She had a dry but prolific sense of humor and a wicked timing with pranks but she despised this feeling of silliness that accompanied the jealousy coursing through her. The anger at this competitor for her partner's attention was completely unproductive and a waste of her time and energy but she felt it all the same. The totally pointless and inane emotion made her feel like some ditzy school girl instead of the cool professional she was.

Somehow she managed to doze off in spite of her troubled thoughts, likely because of the combination of a true lack of rest the night before and unimaginably comfortable bedding. She slept, somewhat fitfully, but sleep nonetheless for what felt like a much shorter period of time than it actually was until she was awakened by the sound of someone moving around her room.

Natasha bolted awake and within seconds had a gun trained on Clint, who was leaning casually against the wall with a teasing smile on his face.

"Something throwing you off Romanoff?" he drawled, "I got a full 10 feet into this room before you had that on me."

Natasha lowered her gun, giving Clint an irritated scowl. "I'm on vacation. I'm not supposed to have to deal with creeps picking the lock and disturbing my sleep."

"You have sand in your bed," Clint pointed out, ignoring the fact that he had just been referred to as a creep. "Also it's 5, we're supposed to be at the bonfire in an hour and I am well versed enough in your repertoire of excuses to know I need to be here to get your ass in gear."

Natasha made a face at him but climbed out of bed. She was incredibly punctual when she wanted to be but when it came to social obligations and other things of that nature she could create any manner of elaborate excuses to not attend or to be as late as possible.

Casual nights in with the team were one thing, but it was something else entirely for her to have to stand around making forced small talk with acquaintances.

She had to be the girl in the dress seducing a mark and working the crowd so many times that anytime she had to go to parties as herself it couldn't help but feel like work.

She walked into the bathroom as Clint moved to brush off the bed and flop down on the comfy sheets himself. Natasha stripped off her sports bra and sensible sport underwear and tossed them out into the room without bothering to shut the door. It wasn't unusual for her and Clint to abandon any pretenses of modesty, but she was lying to herself if she let herself believe that the practice hadn't taken on a teasing air lately. "Pick out a dress or something for me," she called out.

"I have a feeling I'd be fine with what you've got on now," Clint replied, but she could hear him get up and start ruffling through her closet over the spray of the shower.

Natasha felt a slight flush creep up her chest and quickly got into the huge shower and ducked under the hot spray. No matter what crazy things she was allowing herself to think in a moment of weakness she was not going to let any of this turmoil become visible to Clint.

Whatever looks she thought she had seen him give her when he thought she wasn't looking, whatever loaded words had been said next to hospital beds and on drunken rooftops, the bottom line was that he had turned her down. She had offered her body to him and he had declined.

Not only that but Clint wasn't exactly a man who let things he wanted pass him by. It didn't matter that she wasn't exactly that type of woman either, she wasn't going to lose a best friend over some passing psychosis on her part.

She quickly washed off the dried sweat and sand from her run and wrapped a towel around her before walking back out into her bedroom. Clint had clearly been hard at work shifting through her underwear drawer to find the sexiest bra and panty set she had bothered to pack and laid it out on her bed next to a pair of heels.

"Picked something for you," he said casually but his wolfish smile was hard to hide. He was sitting on her bed next to the lingerie strumming lightly on his guitar that he hung around his neck to take to the party.

"I'm supposed to be a guest not the entertainment," Natasha replied dryly. She hated the way her body responded to his quick appraisal of her form in the towel and quickly busied herself with brushing out her long red hair.

The guitar certainly didn't help matters either, especially when he was holding it while sitting on her bed and wearing that form fitting blue t-shirt that she couldn't bear to steal from him because of the way it made the blue of his eyes stand out.

Clint picked out a few chords from Motley Crue's Girls, Girls, Girls with that same smile on his face but nodded toward a green sundress hanging from the closet's handle.

"Better," she acknowledged with a grudging smile. She left him to move on to more suitable musical pursuits while she went back to the bathroom to dry and style her hair.

She had just finished putting on some light makeup, she was going to sweat most of it off anyway in the humidity, when there was a polite knock on the door. Natasha could hear the music from Clint's guitar come to an abrupt halt and his soft footsteps padded to the door. Natasha felt a sharp pang of dread as she suddenly remembered Steve promising to come by to walk with her to the beach for the bonfire. She quickly left the bathroom and just missed intercepting Clint at the door of the villa.

Natasha could see Steve standing at the door with a friendly smile but could only see Clint's back as he faced his taller and broader friend. She had a lot of confidence in her observational skills, even though they fell short in comparison to her partner, and she was fairly sure she could see Clint's body tense as he opened the door.

"Oh," was all he said and she was sure now that she could hear the tension in his voice, "that's right."

Clint shifted the guitar on his back and stepped aside to let Steve slip into the room.

"Clint," Steve greeted on his way in, his tone still warm despite Clint's suddenly chilly demeanor, "Going to play for us tonight?" he asked nodding to the guitar.

"That's the plan," Clint said gradually sliding around Steve to the still open door.

"Any interest in walking over with us?" Steve asked Clint, seeing his imminent retreat.

"No thanks Cap," Clint said, a wry little smile creeping onto his face, "Romanoff was taking a little long for my liking. Good luck with hurrying her along."

Natasha watched him slip through the door and out into the early evening with a rather helpless feeling welling up in her. The easy camaraderie of the past hour had evaporated with a single knock to the door.

Prior to this trip it wouldn't have been odd for all three of them to walk out to the beach together but for some reason since yesterday everything had been sharp edges and bumped knees, none of the natural friendliness that had developed over the past couple years between teammates.

Natasha signaled to Steve that she needed a couple more minutes and stepped back into the bathroom, this time closing the door.

This was the trouble with labels she fumed, twisting long red curls up off of her neck and securing them with bobby pins. She could hang out any day of the week watching old movies in the tower's theater with Steve Rodgers and no one said boo about it. But put on a dress and call it a date and suddenly there were expectations and weirdness. This is exactly why she was so intent of keeping any sort of label deeper than friendship off of feelings altogether. The second you started calling it jealousy, the second you started calling it love, things started to fall apart.

Natasha scowled at her reflection before putting on a sunny smile and stepping out to meet Steve.

"You look beautiful Natasha," Steve said sincerely. Natasha couldn't help but think about how this compliment differed from the almost predatory look Clint has so recently given her when she stepped out in her towel. Both were quick and neither felt particularly lecherous but the Captains felt more like an expected social nicety while Clint had looked for a second like he had lost himself at the sight of her. She supposed Steve Rogers was bound to come off as the gentleman next to an ex-carney but she couldn't say that she appreciated the chivalry more, after all it had been Clint's silent gaze that affected her physically.

"You look pretty dapper yourself Cap," she responded. The man was admittedly handsome and he knew how work a button down.

Steve extended his arm and Natasha managed to hesitate only a second before taking it lightly. She had shot down more would be suitors than she had hairs on her head but it was completely different when these intentions came from a friend. There was a conversation that needed to be had, and soon, but on the way to Tony Stark's pre-wedding bonfire, was not the time.

"So what did you find to get into today?" Natasha asked. Small talk with a friend was much less painful than it was with mere acquaintances but she still wasn't particularly good at it.

"Tony's got everything here," Steve replied, shaking his head over their extravagant host. "I managed to lose several games of chess to Banner but I destroyed Thor in some shuffle board. That man does not know the meaning of moderation especially when it comes to his strength."

Natasha grinned fondly, having no trouble picturing exactly how Thor's foray into resort recreation had gone.

"Finally!" Tony's attention-commanding voice boomed from the beach a few feet away as he jogged over to meet the pair. "The gang's all here finally. Avengers assembled," he beamed. Natasha took in the slight flush to his skin and the ever so faint slur to his speech and raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Noon" Tony responded, easily reading her expression, "best catch up before you're left behind." With that he left them, walking over to Pepper where he grabbed her ass while sneaking an arm behind her back. Pepper yelped and swatted his arm but Natasha could see there was no real annoyance in her gaze but rather the same watery glint she had seen in Tony's, it might not have been noon for her but it hadn't been much later.

"You really do look lovely tonight," Steve said, putting a light hand on the small of her back to steer her over to an empty table near the fire which was already blazing even though the sun was just starting to creep down the sky. Natasha shifted uncomfortably, glancing down at the green sundress.

"I can't help but feel a little like a pornstar around this crowd sometimes," she said honestly, giving Steve a rueful smile. She wasn't one to be self conscious or unsure about her physical appearance very often, she knew the effect she had on men and was very aware that she was empirically attractive but she couldn't help but feel a vague unease when surrounded by her teammates' significant others.

With the exception of Darcy the women surrounding her were waif-like and delicate, their own sundresses hanging on them fashionably like models on a runway. She felt almost obscene walking into their midst, her own dress straining across her ample chest, all full lips and bedroom eyes.

She really wasn't one for sundresses, they felt far too innocent and childish for her liking, but there was an occasion for everything, especially when the dress in question had been purchased for her by the bride-to-be.

Steve looked at her, seemingly surprised by her honesty. "The green makes your eyes stand out," he said, pulling out her chair for her, "any one of them would give anything to look like you."

Natasha shrugged and took her own seat, he hadn't quite gotten the point but the sentiment was nice.

"Can I get you a drink?" Steve asked, stopping short of actually pushing her chair in for her. She was glad that he had some awareness of the fact that his chivalry could only extend so far before it was going to come into serious conflict with her independence.

"Vodka tonic," Natasha replied and Steve left her in the direction of the bar. Natasha took a moment to scan the crowd, taking a quick inventory of her friends.

Thor and Jane were sitting on a blanket near the fire, gazing off at the horizon for the time being, probably just until the sun went down and Jane's gaze turned to the stars as it was apt to do.

Pepper and Tony were still draped around each other though they were each in conversation with someone else, Tony talking to Bruce and a pink sundress clad Amy while Pepper chatted with her old roommate and Darcy.

Her eyes finally fell on Clint though he had been the first one she noticed. It seemed instinct that she could immediately sense his presence whenever he was around. He had taken up post by the fire, guitar in hand and was taking requests from a small audience that had gathered.

Clint looked up suddenly and their eyes met across the crowd. Natasha gave a small wave and Clint nodded in her direction, an inscrutable expression crossing his face. She knew that Clint was irritated that their plans for the weekend had been upended by Steve's impromptu invitation but she was having a hard time puzzling out exactly why her partner was acting as distant as he was.

Steve returned with her drink and Clint quickly turned his eyes back to his guitar and the growing crowd around him. She was well aware of her partners musical talents but it was apparent he was going to make a few more fans tonight. Probably some who would give him the honest praise he deserved instead of the teasing and gentle ribbing she leveled at him every time he pulled out that guitar or serenaded her over the comms during missions.

The truth of it was that she knew exactly how talented Clint Barton was and she chose to make fun of him rather than admit exactly the effect his raspy and raw version of American Pie in her ear during a mission had on her and the state of her underwear.

Natasha shook her head lightly and took a long drag from the glass Steve offered her. Steve gave her a surprised little look which quickly turned into an impressed smile as he clinked glasses with her. Steve Rogers was actually the one person in Avenger's Tower she couldn't drink under the table but that didn't mean he didn't admire her skills.

Natasha was surprised at how easy conversation flowed between the two of them, progressing from what they were currently reading, to what they thought of the last movie Tony had selected for movie night (Fight Club- Natasha was a fan, Steve was not), to how odd things had become for them back home now that they were bonafied celebrities. They had shared almost half a dozen drinks before Natasha even realized how much time had passed and they lapsed into a companionable silence.

"I'm happy for them," Steve said quietly, and Natasha could see his gaze was trained on Tony and Pepper across the sandy beach. "I don't know how she puts up with him sometimes but somehow they just….. work."

Natasha shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She might be 6 strong vodka tonics deep but this still sounded suspiciously like a conversation about feelings, "I guess," she responded noncommittally.

"How romantic of you," Steve said dryly, giving her something that was almost a smirk.

"It's not that," she said feeling somewhat flustered, "I'm happy for them, I honestly am, and trust me that isn't an easy thing for me to admit. I'm not used to experiencing joy for myself much less on someone else's behalf." Steve nodded in understanding and the vodka emboldened her to continue, "I just don't understand why they all do this. They take these strong relationships in their lives. Best friends, co-workers-"

"Partners?" Steve cut in. Natasha's eyes shot up to meet his and her mouth tightened into a suspicious glare.

"Partners," she finally continued, still regarding him with intense distrust. "And they tack on this new label, and turn it into something fragile and delicate."

Steve was watching her with something that resembled sympathy on his face, an emotion Natasha was supremely uncomfortable with.

"By new label you mean love?" he asked.

Natasha waved her hand, unwilling to discuss this on any more serious terms than she already had and flagged down a waiter for another drink. "Love, girlfriends, boyfriends, husbands, wives, the whole thing. It's just asking for trouble, just setting yourself up to get hurt or used. To be perfectly honest with people like us I think it's almost an irresponsible liability."

Natasha knocked back her drink in 2 long swigs and gestured for the waiter to just keep them coming.

"Take Thor," she said gesturing with her glass over to hulking blonde who was still curled up with Jane, their eyes indeed having turned skyward as dusk fell. "He's the stuff of legends and to call him a difficult man to take down is putting it very lightly. He can hold his own against the Hulk. But I know one bookish petite brunette way to cut him to his core."

She had intended to make Steve feel chastened and to wipe that pitying look from his face but instead he had just begun to look sad and wistful.

"It's a risk," he admitted, "but it's worth it. I didn't have nearly the time I wanted with Peggy but I'm grateful for every second that we did have. To share that sort of connection with someone, it makes you a better person. It's like, as happy as you think you've ever been in your life, you weren't before them. As cliche and aggrandizing as it sounds it's like understanding for a moment, what the hell we're all doing here."

Natasha felt like she should roll her eyes or even laugh at Steve's waxing romantic about true love but there was something in his sincerity and fidelity that sobered her.

"What was she like?" Natasha asked, "Peggy."

Steve smiled fondly and he looked like his mind was a thousand miles away, though it was probably more like 70 years away if she had to guess.

"She was strong," he said, "Strong and so inherently good. She was beautiful but also smart and competent. Being with her was so refreshing, not that I had anything resembling experience prior, but there's nothing like being with someone as an equal. She wanted me instead of needed me. She was kind but worked everyday to prove herself in what was a boys game then." Steve seemed to come back into himself somewhat and he smiled at Natasha across the table, "You remind me a lot of her," he said, "you two would have been great friends I'm sure."

Natasha stared at him intently for almost a full minute before a smile broke across her face and she reached across the table and squeezed his hand. It wasn't just the beautiful soliloquy for his old love, though that had been moving, it was the way he looked at her at the end.

She still didn't understand his intentions for this weekend but she was finally reassured that there was nothing romantic in Captain America's invitation.

He had spoken of Peggy with such love and devotion, it had been nostalgic but still colored with genuine emotion. When he had turned his attention back to her she had seen a very obvious shift in his expression. It was still kind and affectionate, even with a glint of love in there, but it was the love of a dedicated friend instead of a romantic suitor.

Natasha felt like a weight had been lifted from her, like clouds had just rolled out and clear skies were gracing her vacation once more.

She was still holding Steve's hand when a raucous guitar chord sounded next to her ear. Natasha turned quickly and saw Clint standing at her elbow. She had been vaguely aware of his presence at the bonfire all night as she always was when it came to her partner. She had heard him taking requests all evening, delighting Tony with his rendition of Black Sabbath and AC/DC hits and Pepper with a heartfelt Goo Goo Dolls cover. Jane had requested Wonderwall by Oasis, which endeared her to Natasha somewhat more, and Darcy and Thor joined Heather in their delight over his acoustic versions of the latest pop hits and club anthems.

Throughout it all he had been sure to sprinkle in some of his own taste with singles from bands like the Chili Peppers and Nirvana.

Natasha saw Clint staring at her fingers laced with Steve's on the tabletop, but it felt to obvious to snatch her hand away now.

"I'm not sure I have anything from your era in my repertoire Cap," Clint said with forced enthusiasm. Natasha could see spots of color on his tan cheeks and his hair was irrevocably rumpled which meant that he had done his fair share of drinking tonight as well. She knew his habit of running his hands through that blonde mop of hair more and more the more inebriated he got well.

Clint snapped his fingers and touched the side of his nose with one finger, pointing to Steve with the other hand, "I've got one." he said with a grin before launching into an obnoxious version of Yankee Doodle.

"…and called it macaronnnniiiii," he finished with a flourish of his guitar and a deep bow.

"You're drunk," Natasha scowled at him. She had slowly pulled her hand away from Steve over the course of the song.

"Bingo," he snarked. Clint was a notorious smart ass but it was unlike him to be intentionally cruel. Steve, however, seemed entirely nonplussed and just grinned at his disheveled blonde friend.

"A little early for me, but I appreciate the thought," he said. "I'm going to get us some food," he said pushing away from the table, his eyes asking Natasha if she was ok being left along. Natasha nodded and turned her attention back to her partner as Steve left the table.

"What was that about?" she asked sourly, all of the relief she had gained after realizing Steve was not in fact making any sort of romantic overtures quickly evaporating as she was reminded how strangely her best friend had been acting.

The smugness was quickly draining from him and she thought he looked almost sad. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "I didn't mean to interrupt anything."

"I'm not the one you should be apologizing to," Natasha replied, tight lipped.

"Clint!" Do you know any Taylor Swift?!" Heather shouted across the campfire.

"Your fans await," Natasha said, and she found it coming out colder than she had really intended it. She was still incapable of looking at the willowy brunette, especially in a backless, barely-there dress that exposed ages of long leg that she liked to press up against Clint's side, without her veins turning to ice.

Clint looked at her for another second, seeming almost pained, but he eventually spun around and launched immediately into T. Swift's newest hit.

Steve returned with two plates and Natasha was grateful for some food to soak up the abundance of alcohol in her stomach, but she couldn't help but feel the night had taken a downward turn once more.

Steve tried to keep up the conversation that had come so naturally all evening but she knew her attitude was making it much more difficult. Eventually Steve pushed back from the table and told her he was going to call it a night.

He looked at her fondly, "I had a really nice time tonight Natasha."

"Me too," Natasha managed, "you're a good friend Cap."

Steve gave her what she thought was a very knowing smile and stood, "Think about what I said. If everyone is willing to dive headfirst into this love thing, there might be something to it," he advised, dropping a kiss on the crown of her head.

Natasha squeezed the hand he rested on her shoulder and smiled up at him and then he was gone. She sat staring into her drink for a few minutes in contemplative silence. She genuinely had enjoyed her evening with Steve, he was a good friend just as she had said but the cold anger that she had felt radiating off of her best friend sat like a black hole in the middle of an otherwise enjoyable evening.

_"So we lie here in the dark_

_All the wrong things on fire_

_In sickness and in health_

_To be with you, just to be with you_

_In your wedding dress_

_To have and to hold"_

Natasha jerked her head up and once more met Clint's eyes across the fire. His fan club had finally somewhat dispersed, some couples staggering back to their rooms to act on the romance of the night, others congregating around the bride and groom to be who were still holding court near the bar. Natasha felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and the darkness that was creeping into her thoughts quickly began to fade.

Clint smiled at her, still singing and motioned with his head for her to come over. Natasha rolled her eyes and got up from the table. It was amazing how this man could go from irritating her to her very core to making her smile and reminding her exactly why she called him her best friend within an hour.

Natasha sat down on the log next to Clint in front of the fire and enjoyed the heat from the blaze as the night was beginning to cool while he finished his song.

_"Thought I'd lost you_

_Thought I'd lost you I gave you away_

_Thought I'd lost you _

_I'm jealous of the moon _

_For how it moves, the waves_

_Cause in your wedding dress_

_To have and to hold_

_Cause even at my best_

_I wanna let go."_

"I thought you hated everything on my iPod," Natasha teased as he strummed the final chords and was met with applause from the crowd by the bar.

"I do," Clint said with a teasing smile, "it's maudlin crap, but it gets the job done," he finished nodding toward the continued clapping and cheers.

"You know that song is about divorce right?" Natasha said with raised eyebrows.

"Of course I do. I am not a philistine, I listen to lyrics Romanoff," he chided. "But if you think our blotto bride and groom to be are coherent enough to hear anything but 'wedding dress' and assume it's the most romantic thing in the goddamn world you have not spoken to either of them long enough tonight."

Natasha looked over to Tony who was walking Pepper down an imaginary aisle in the sand with exaggerated gallantry, "$50 says we don't see either of them before noon tomorrow."

"I'd be shocked if they show their faces before dinner," Clint retorted with a snort. Natasha smiled and bumped her knee against his in silent acknowledgment that all was ok again. Clint gave her a sideways grin and bumped his shoulder against hers in thanks.

"What is it about the singer/songwriters moaning and groaning about their lives that is so appealing to you anyway?" he asked, "Is there a sentimental side to the Black Widow after all?"

"No," Natasha said firmly, "Definitely not. But Natasha does enjoy a story. I can think the sentiment and schmaltz are complete shit and still enjoy the story they have to tell."

"I think you're just a sucker for a guy with a guitar," Clint flirted, waggling his eyebrows at her suggestively, doing his best to ignore the pang he felt at her easy dismissal of romance.

"Maybe if they're talented," she teased.

"You like a song with a story huh?" he asked, ignoring her jab and looking over at her with a playful grin.

"Clint, don't," Natasha groaned, turning pleading eyes to him.

"I know a song that tells a story," he continued undeterred and several opening chords rang out.

"I woke up this morning with a bad hangover" he spoke over the acoustic version of an electric guitar riff.

_"And my penis was missing again_

_This happens all the time_

_It's detachable_

_This comes in handy a lot of the time_

_I can leave it home when I think it's going to get me in trouble_

_Or I can rent it out when I don't need it_

_But now and then I go to a party_

_Get drunk_

_And the next morning, I can't for the life of me_

_Remember what I did with it"_

Natasha, having finally had enough launched herself at Clint, trying to pry the guitar from his hands. This was one of his favorite ways to torment her over the comms, reciting this ridiculous song when she was helpless to do anything about it, so tonight when he was well within striking range it was not going to go unpunished.

Natasha tried to wrestle his hands off the guitar but when he used his taller height to extend it out of her reach she settled for digging her fingers into the sensitive skin of his underarms which she knew from extensive experience would elicit the most undignified giggles from her manly partner.

"Ok, ok, ok," Clint cried, dropping his guitar on the strap around his neck so he could pin his arms to his side and protect himself. Natasha pinned his shoulders down into the sand and hovered over him, faux anger completely ruined by her dancing eyes. For the second time that evening she felt the word, silly, come to mind but this time she didn't remotely mind it.

"Knock it off woman! You win!" Clint shouted, "I'm sorry you can't appreciate a good campy reminiscence of the 90's."

Natasha gave his side one last poke and released him, but was not quite ready to sit up yet for some reason and she hovered next to his prone body in the sand. She saw the humor dancing in his eyes, so much more familiar than the sarcastic pettiness from earlier and she wanted to revel in it for just a few more seconds.

"Tasha?" Clint asked, growing quickly serious under her scrutiny and closeness.

Natasha jerked back and sat upright on the log, eyes trained fixedly on the fire. She heard Clint audibly sigh behind her and he spent almost a full minute more laying in the sand before he sat up and readjusted the guitar around his neck.

"Taylor Swift will never sound the same with all that sand in there now," she said, hating the slight tremor she could hear in her voice.

"A true musician knows how to make do no matter the hardships," Clint drawled, running his hands distractedly through his hair. He seemed to lose whatever battle was raging internally and dropped his hands back to his guitar. With nothing else to say or do he was going to resort back to his music.

Natasha let a soft smile rise on her face when she recognized the song. While he would mock her acoustic emo and she called him a snob and teased his devotion to alternative rock they had managed to find some common ground in their musical tastes.

_"Just an old friend coming over now to visit you and_

_That's what I've become_

_I let myself in though I know I'm not supposed to but_

_I never know when I'm done_

_And I see you fogging up the mirror_

_Vapor round your body glistens in the shower_

_And I wanna stay right here and go down on you for an hour_

_Or stay, and let the day just fade away_

_In wild dedication, take the moment of hope_

_And let it run, and never look back at all the damage we have done now_

_To each other_

_Cause when I see you, it's like I'm staring down the sun_

_And I'm blinded_

_There's nothing left to do_

_Still I see you_

_I never believed that things they happen for a reason and _

_They never go as planned _

_I wanted to thank you for a vision that was lost that you returned but _

_You're passed do you understand"_

Natasha felt the smile dropping from her face and a pensive look replacing it. She had heard this song many times before but hearing it now, in these circumstances, coming from Clint's mouth, it was taking on a deeper meaning.

An old friend not knowing where they stand, it felt like he was trying to tell her something with this song choice but no part of her felt ready to hear it.

_"Now her appetite is blown, little else is known _

_Except she a little angry, grabs a towel and looks away _

_And heat fades with the day _

_And I fall down on what to say, _

_Oh something clean let me be clever _

_Hey oh well whatever _

_But that's not what I mean _

_When where we've been has left us burned _

_Still I won't turn now from a fight you know I'll never win _

_So when I see you, you know all the things I've done _

_Well I'm blinded _

_Like I'm staring down the sun _

_When I see you _

_It's like I'm staring down the sun _

_Time passes and it tells us what we're left with _

_We become the things we do _

_Me I'm a fool, spent from defiance, yeah you got me but _

_I didn't give up on you _

_Icarus is not a tee shirt or a swan song, no _

_Heat is born again and it's not easy being me _

_But I can't promise I will mend or bend _

_When you believe that we are fixed now from our birth _

_And I've just fallen back to earth _

_Still you know I'll try again _

_Cause I believe that we are lucky _

_We are golden we're stolen manners _

_In the days when we were one _

_So when I see you, despite all that we've become _

_I'm still blinded _

_But I'm still staring down the sun _

_When I see you _

_I'm blinded"_

Clint seemed unwilling to meet her eyes as the song ended and they both sat staring into the fire, neither speaking nor touching. Natasha felt a panic rising up in her chest, a fast spreading hysteria working its way up to her throat and threatening to strangle her.

Natasha looked at Clint, sitting on the log next to her, the fire throwing moving shadows across his handsome face. She could feel her composure slipping and acted completely on instinct in a moment of sheer honesty. Natasha pressed a quick kiss to Clint's cheek and immediately fled the beach.

* * *

TBC. Please take a second and leave a review (and/or a team pancakes/naudrey rec ;) )


End file.
